Marcel in Montreal begins his story with the moral: “There are just some things you don’t mess with — vipers, rabid dogs, king cobras, black widows…and my mom.” His younger self, however, was far less wise. This is his tale.
For a long time, Marcel and his siblings had the irritating habit of drinking all the milk in the house late at night so that there was none left when their mother went to pour herself a bowl of cereal for breakfast the morning.
One day, Marcel and his siblings came home from school to find a batch of “the richest, most delicious brownies ever” sitting on the counter. Of course, they dug in immediately. But just as he was about to head to the fridge to pour himself a cold, tall glass of milk to wash down all that chocolate-y goodness, Marcel noticed this note from Mom hiding underneath the crumbs.
“Sacre bleu!” he cried, for sure enough, there was not a drop of milk to be found in the house. Leaving a trail of brownie crumbs behind him, he ran as fast as he could to the nearest dairy farm, where, shortly before hitting send on this submission, he was eaten by a very hungry wolf.
“Both Marcel and the brownies,” the wolf wrote, “were fucking delicious.”