Our milkman has a peg leg and a black beard. You can hear his clink stomp up our path every Monday and Friday. Ma says he’s a pirate, recently returned from the High Seas.
’Don’t fill the child’s head with lies.’ Da says. ‘He lost his leg in the Army. Your Ma thinks she’s funny,’
Ma tuts and puts the milk in the fridge.
She is funny. Everyone but Da thinks so. She’s got funny bones, the neighbours say and I see the Jolly Roger flag, grinning. The milkman—call me Stan— laughs hardest of all. He’s a man with a glint of no-time-to-lose.
Da doesn’t know we’re in a house under siege.
Clink stomp clink stomp clink stomp.
Jac has an MA in Creative Writing and two Pushcart nominations. These are her most prized possessions. Don’t tell the dog.
This story was shortlisted in the March 24 Monthly Micro Competition.