Ten-Minute Write: Rex

When the milk started talking to him, Tim didn’t know how to respond.

“YOU SHOULDN’T EAT DAIRY! DAIRY PRODUCTS OF ANY KIND WILL KILL YOU, TIM. I AM ONLY TRYING TO HELP!”

He looked at the gallon jug of milk in his hand. He checked the expiration date: June 15, 2010. Still good. He tilted it back and forth slowly, as if it were a particularly delicate Christmas present, or maybe a bomb, and he felt something slide heavily within the milk.

With shocking force, the forms of two gnarled claws slammed against the plastic halfway down the jug. “YOU ALSO SHOULDN’T SHAKE MILK BEFORE SERVING! I AM ONLY TRYING TO HELP YOU … IDIOT!”

Tim screamed and half-dropped, half-threw the jug at the counter in front of him. It was two-thirds full, and so he couldn’t see the thing inside once it retreated back into the white murk. He could only see the disturbance of the milk itself, frothy and choppy in the jug, as the creature within resettled.

“W-w-what? Is … are you … I mean, what’s … ?” Tim was at a loss. How was he supposed to interact with a milk jug that shouted at him? “Have I gone insane?” he asked quietly.

“OH, FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST!” the milk shouted. “NO, YOU HAVE NOT GONE INSANE! YOU ARE THE MOST BORINGLY SANE PERSON WHO HAS EVER LIVED! THAT IS WHY I AM HERE: BECAUSE YOU ARE A BORE! TO EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING. I AM HERE TO HELP. YOU CAN CALL ME REX.”

“Rex,” Tim said. “Okay. I’m … Tim.”

“I KNOW WHO YOU ARE! JESUS! I ALREADY SAID YOUR NAME NOT SIXTY SECONDS AGO! IDIOT! ARE YOU ALWAYS GOING TO MAKE IT THIS DIFFICULT FOR ME TO HELP YOU?”

“Well, I don’t–I mean, I’m not sure,” Tim said. “I didn’t even know I, you know, needed any help.”

“WHY WOULD I BE HERE IF YOU WEREN’T A MAN WITH PROBLEMS?” Rex said. “GET YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME, TIM! YOU NEED HELP, AND I AM HERE TO PROVIDE IT! TA-FUCKIN’-DA, THE DOCTOR IS IN, BITCH!”

Tim fidgeted. It was all so troubling. He stared at the jug, blinked, and chewed the edge of his thumbnail. “But,” he mumbled, his mouth full of dirty keratin, “what if I don’t, you know … want your help?”

The creature flung itself forward and its gray-brown, furry, cat-like face pressed against the plastic, pushing away the milk and revealing its brain-melting monstrosity.

“THEN WE ARE GOING TO HAVE PROBLEMS, TIM!” it screamed. “WE’RE GOING TO HAVE BIG, BIG PROBLEMS!”

And then Rex laughed a horrible, terrifying laugh, and it started to occur to Tim that maybe the fiendish creature wasn’t there to help him after all.

“POUR SOME HERSHEY’S IN HERE!” Rex said. “MAKE ME CHOCOLATE! THEN, AH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH, LET THE HELPING BEGIN!”