Sit, Hooman
Listen well
I’m here to take control
Of this poor pathetic
Excuse of a planet
You call home
So you will take me to your leader
That I may finish my mission
And go home
To be celebrated
A hero among my kind
Tell me where to find your leader
The one they call the Milk Man.
About the Creator
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More stories from Mother Combs and writers in Poets and other communities.
A Digital Pandemic.
After a long day in the department, Emily dropped her worn and tired dark leather bag on the counter before navigating through the small and disordered kitchen to grab a cold beer from a contrarily empty fridge. She hadn't had a chance to unpack since moving from Newcastle to Glasgow, let alone shop for sustenance, except for cold brews naturally.
By Billie Whyteabout 16 hours ago in Chapters
Comments (7)
Yes, Mother, milk it for all it's worth! Every cat I've ever known.
Hooman... loved that 🤣
Awe, poor kitty is not going to have success taking over the world as long as he priorities milk.
Hahahahahhahahaa the milk man!! I so was not expecting that!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
Yep. The council of Milk Men, Camera Men and...cats. Uh uh. Loved this and I desperately want to *boop* the invasion kitty there :)
Haha. That was great. 🤣
Ha! You got me. Bravo.