THIS GUY wants my expired soy milk.
Max looked from the carton in his possession to the lead scientist who held out his hands, beckoning intently.
Then this isn’t a prank…
Neither Grandma Neta nor anyone else at the community center could pull off a prank of this magnitude, but that only left him even more puzzled.
Why does everyone care so much about expired soy milk?
Resigned to be confused, Max held the carton out to the leader.
When the carton changed hands, the leader nearly fumbled it, provoking a collective gasp of fright from the house full of agents, including the agent wrestling the cats, as well as from the cats.
The lead scientists met Max’s eyes heroically, sweat beading his brow. Nodded slowly. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
Max wondered as to the precise meaning of ‘okay’ and how it might correlate with everyone’s warped sense of ‘trouble’.
Was it a public safety violation to open expired containers in this county? In this country? Did the agents mean to put the carton in the trash for him? Or maybe they represented the soy milk company. Had they come to offer their deepest regrets that he had been unable to enjoy the entire carton of their wondrous calcium fortified product, and give him a voucher for another?
When the scientist had possession of the carton, four agents physically removed Max from the house and into a zipper-sealed tent on the front lawn, where was asked in a commanding way to remain seated in a folding chair and was given access to refreshments of juice, coffee, tea as well as animals crackers and cubed cheese, all set out in tiny paper cups with innocuous floral designs.
Duri Rolvsson 