Milk is life…
Milk is everything…
Every mammal has tasted milk at some point in its life. Once, milk was like water to every mammal, even though some grow up to become lactose intolerant. Nevertheless, it was crucial for survival at one time. It's funny how quickly humans forget the sensation, the very first instinct we ever had. Our desperate struggle to suck that juicy fluid.
So disappointing…
I am one of the few humans who truly cherish the white nectar. Because of my milk obsession since childhood, I dedicated my life to milking my cows and providing mankind with this divine nectar.
Right now, I'm on my way to the barn with a bucket in each hand. The morning sun hits my face, but it isn't scorching me thanks to my dusty ol' hat. With each step I take, I feel the sole of my boot slapping against the midsole, torn halfway through and flapping loose.
When I reach the barn, all my cows and bulls bellow as if greeting me.
"Morning, morning sweeties!" I say as I pat one of the cows on the left side.
There are two sections in my barn; the left for the cows and the right for the bulls. The bulls are usually tended to by my assistant since they're slaughtered for beef once they hit maturity. The special ones are kept for breeding.
As I walk through the center of the barn, I notice one of the bulls staring at me aggressively. It bellows loudly.
"Oi boy, might need to turn ya into some juicy steak real soon. Don't like that gaze," I mutter just loud enough for the bull to hear, though it doesn't understand either way. Funny enough, the bull snorts hard, smoke puffing from its nostrils and catching me off guard.
"Hell… nah, you're going down today once Beom gets back," I shake my head and open a small metal door that leads to a large pregnant cow I call Grace. She produces the most milk on this farm.
MOOOOO~
"Morning, Grace," I joke as I kneel beside her udder with my metal buckets, excitement rushing through me. Doing what I love most is the best feeling in the world.
Without wasting time, I get to work and begin milking Grace.
FWOOSH. FWOOSH. FWOOSH.
With the perfect rhythm of my calloused hands, milk fills the bucket within minutes, rising halfway, then nearly to the brim.
No one does it better than me, hehehe… I can't imagine using machines like other farmers. Some call me weird, others old-school, but none of their gossip matters. No one understands the sublime appeal and satisfaction that comes with milking cows with bare hands!
Suddenly, the hairs on my neck stand up and my feet turn ice-cold. I sense a looming danger, and in a sharp jerk, I turn around. The bull that always stares at me has broken free from its pen and charges toward me, smoke pouring from its nostrils.
At the same time, Grace panics and begins thrashing, kicking me with her back legs along with my milk, sending me crashing backward before I can leap away.
The bull corners me and rams me repeatedly against the metal rails, shattering my ribs and crushing my spine. My vision blurs as I begin to lose consciousness, yet it keeps slamming into me.
Fuck… what a shame to die like this. Dying as a twenty-eight-year-old virgin. If I'm given a second chance, I'll choose a different path and live life to the fullest.
I raise my hand as if trying to catch something, a faint smile blooming on my face as the bull rams into me once more
—and everything goes dark.