Got Milk

By Traci Phillips

Hewey, Dewey, and Louie were all making breakfast in their kitchen, pouring cereal and being peaceful duck children, when Louie opened the fridge, and exclaimed.

"There's no milk!" he cried, distraught over the distinct lack of milk for their breakfast. His siblings also made distressed noises and put down their half-poured bowls of cereal. It was a real tragedy that there was no milk, and Hewey, Dewey and Louie felt this most of all. They had already poured the cereal, bowls of Lucky Charms, Captain Crunch, and Pops, all sitting there, ready to be eaten. If only for some milk.

Dewey sniffed like he was going to cry, but he didn't. Because he's a man. Men don't cry.

Hewey put his bowl down on the table and stared at its contents sadly.

"We could eat them without milk," he suggested quietly, gesturing weakly at the fridge and the assembled bowls.

"That's disgusting. We aren't savages." Louie said, putting his foot down as he closed the fridge. "We'll just go get some milk from the store before Uncle Scrooge wakes up."

"Are you sure we can get to the store that fast?" Hewey asks. He glances at the clock, unsure. But Louie is having none of it.

"We can do it!!" he insists. His siblings glance at each other before shrugging and following along.

It occurs to the triplets, near simultaneously, that in order to get to the store in time, they'll need a car, or some other form of transportation. And again, all at once, they have an idea. They could steal the plane!

"I have a plan!" Hewey announces to the group. The other two look eagerly at their sibling. "We can steal the plane! The fast one! And get back before Uncle Scrooge wakes up!"

"It's perfect!" Dewey says, throwing his hands in the air. "But wait, do either of you know how to fly a plane? Because I don't."

The three duck children visibly deflate at that, their plans seemingly ruined by the fact that none of them can fly a plane. But again, they have an idea. The limo in the garage should be much easier to take to the store quickly.

They all ran to the garage, and there, perfect and beautiful, was Uncle Scrooge's limo. Hewey, Dewey and Louie all piled into the driver's seat, with Louie at the pedals, Dewey and the wheel, and Hewey watching the road. It was the perfect plan. So, they pealed out of the garage with reckless abandon, hurrying to the store to get some milk.

They were driving down the road pretty okay, having almost crashed the car only twice now, the money for their milk safely on the center consol. Suddenly, a red light, Louie pushing the brake at Hewey's command. And, due to the fact that they refused to disobey traffic laws, they were spotted by a master criminal.

He narrowed his eyes, red pupils shining ominously as he approached the limo, which was stopped at a red light. He approached quietly, his steps making no sound that the duck children could hear on the asphalt.

And then, he yanked the door open swiftly, with little more than a scuff of pavement as warning and tossed the children out of the limo. It was Kermit the Frog!! And if he was surprised to see three small children instead of an adult driving the car, he didn't show it as he climbed into the limo and drove away.

The triplets yelled, chasing the car for a moment, yelling things like "Stop! Thief!" and "The milk money!" before sitting sadly on the sidewalk.

Dewey actually began to cry this time, his manliness already spent on the day's activities. Kermit the Frog had just stolen their car, and with it, their milk money.

"How are we ever going to get to the store to get the milk now?" he cried, sniffling pathetically, and putting his head in his hands.

"We run!" Louie announced as he was apparently the brains of the operation. Hewey and Dewey seemed unsure, but weren't about to let Louie run to the store by himself.

They ended up getting there in an impressive amount of time, only five minutes, but of course, they had driven a considerable way too. It wasn't actually that impressive, but they were proud of themselves, as children often are for completing small tasks.

Hewey, Dewey and Louie entered the store. It was then, in that moment, that it dawned upon them, the true nature of their current problem. They had no money with which to buy the milk once they had found it. And together, they came to an agreed upon conclusion.

The three of them ran to the milk aisle, which was easy to find because in a perfect world, all stores look the same. They got the milk, a gallon a piece, and started toward the front of the store.

"What now?" Dewey asked, his tears all dried up. His little duck hands clutched the milk tightly, not wanting to lose what they had worked so hard to get.

"Now," Louie said, "WE RUN!!!" And he took off running, his siblings close behind him.

They set off all the alarms in the store with their heinous milk theft, and they ran as fast as their little duck legs could carry them, weighed down by their gallons of milk. Louie urged his brothers to hurry, trying to get a head start before the police caught up with them.

The store owner was yelling, Hewey was panting, and Dewey was starting to cry again, the wuss.

Suddenly, the police arrived! It was a disaster. It seemed Louie's plan was going poorly.

"It seems my plan is going poorly," Louie said.

"Oh does it now?" Hewey said, shifting the milk to get a better grip.

"Guys, Guys, go down that alleyway!!!" said Louie, ignoring Hewey's snide remark and the blaring police sirens behind them, "It's a shortcut home!" They all ran down the alley, leaping over some dead people and coming out on the other side, magically closer to their Uncle's house.

"They'll never find us here!" Hewey said, forgetting about things like facial recognition, the fact that the police probably know them, and the fact the Uncle Scrooge will probably report the limo stolen, leading to their eventual incrimation in the day's events. Oh well.

The triplets went inside then, content with their slightly warm milk, and the fact that they had indeed gotten home in time. Uncle Scrooge was just getting up as they poured the milk into their bowls of cereal, and started eating as if they hadn't just done a bunch of illegal things.

"Good morning kids," their Uncle said, going to the kitchen to get his own bowl of cereal.

"Good morning," came the chorus reply of three innocently adorable children.
And then they suddenly started choking, their unfinished cereal spilling on the carpet. The milk had been poisoned! But by who? It was unclear, and too late to tell, as in a matter of seconds, Hewey, Dewey, and Louie were all dead.

What poetic justice. Somehow.

The End