Moovers and Shakers

Spring was in the air, warm breezes were blowing, and the city was bustling with energy. I had to get out of my apartment. I wanted a drink, a laugh, maybe a chat with a pretty lady. I grabbed my phone, wallet, keys, and a light jacket and hit the streets.

With every spring in my step, any way the wind blew didn’t really matter to me. I was energised by the electrifying atmosphere of the city. It felt great to finally touch some grass, hopefully later I could touch some… never mind, you get the idea. So anyways I walked into a bar.

No, this was not a joke. I was parched so I legitimately walked into the first bar I saw and sat down at a table. I flagged down a bartender and asked for a glass of milk, and she surprisingly didn't ask any questions. Good, she suspects nothing.

I downed the milk in seconds, but I was still thirsty. I ordered another glass and then another, but that milk didn't quench my thirst either. I waved at the bartender and asked what percent fat the milk was. The bartender leaned over. "Actually," she said, "I've been serving you

milk from male cows.” Milk from male cows? How is that possible? And then I realised. I sputtered out my milk. “All this time, you served me milk from male cows?” The bartender nodded. “Male cows don’t produce milk, you idiot! That’s not milk! Only female cows produce milk! How?”

"I'm from Bovaria, Germany. Watch..". Heavy-lidded and crosseyed he placed his index fingers on his temples and in a soprano voice uttered: "Duke, Samson. Go buy milk from the store". Two bulls clomped in from a back room, "Yes mooster" they said in unison as they exited the bar.