– 2 –

Let’s go back a little.

Sid is thinking about the bad milk. It’s expired. He shouldn’t drink it.

. . . or should he?

“Maybe,” says Sid, “I will just drink a little.”

He pours himself a little. Just a little. Then he tastes it. He makes a face. It is quite bad.

“I bet,” he says, “that if I drink it all, the world will be better.”

This won’t make the world better.

“Or at least,” he says, “it’ll fix someone’s life.”

It won’t fix anyone’s life. Unless you . . . I mean, unless you, I mean, right now, unless what you need right now, to have hope for the world, is for Sid to drink a bunch of bad milk. I don’t know why you’d need that. But maybe if you wanted to need that, I mean, so you could?

He’d drink it for you.

He’s drinking it now.

He gets half of it down. Then he’s choking. He’s spluttering. It’s come out his nose. He can’t drink any more for a while.

Then he thinks.

“Maybe,” he says, reasoning with himself, “it’ll have gotten better. It’ll have aged. Like fine wine, or a cheese.”

It hasn’t aged.

Well, that’s technically inaccurate.

“Tonight,” he says, resting his head on the table, “I really, really, really have to win.”

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