Lactose Intolerant

by Mike

The night started like any other. I was doing my homework when I got a craving for a milkshake, so I walked to the diner and got one. Now, this is something I've done many times before, and I didn't expect this one to be any different. Little did I realize that the guy making the shake was in fact a Voodoo High Priest, and one with a personal grudge against me.

I get back to my room, and begin to drink the shake. I take my first sip, when the shake flies out of my hand, soars across the room, and sprays half its contents on the wall. At first I don't think anything to odd about this. I simply assumed that I must have dropped it somehow, or was moving my hand and it slipped, or something. So I get paper towels and begin to clean it up, when the remnant of the shake rises up from where I had set it. As I watch it, it hovers in the air a moment, and then launches itself at me. Next thing I know, there are Styrofoam shards in my eyes, a straw up my nose, and I'm drowning in cookies and cream ice cream and skim milk. After a few minutes of desperate struggle, I manage to free myself and subdue the shake with paper towels and a mace I happened to have.

The immediate threat ended, I go back to the Diner to investigate the cause of this diabolical shake. As I approach the shake place, I suddenly feel a sharp pain in my side, and then my knee, then my back. I struggle towards the counter, and see the same man who made my shake sticking pins into a small doll. With my last ounce of strength, I leap over the counter, grab the fiends head, and shove it under the soft serve. Within minutes, he was dead, smothered in creamy vanilla and rich chocolate. The world was safe for frozen dairy once again.