Dairy

Bill walked back to his desk, sat down, and prepared to eat his yoghurt. Around him keyboards tapped and mouses clicked. Bill rotated the rectangular pot and began to peel from the corner. As he did he heard a faint scream, a shriek from somewhere distant. Bill paused. As he did, the screaming stopped too. He listened for a few seconds. Nothing. A trick of the mind, he thought, and returned to his yoghurt.

Again Bill peeled back the foil. Again, screaming. So quiet he could barely hear it, but definitely real. Once more, the sound stopped when he did. He peeled and listened. The screaming grew louder as he gained purchase on the foil. With surprise he realised: the shrieking wasn’t far away, it was just very quiet. And coming from the yoghurt pot!

Perhaps it’s trapped air, or something, Bill thought. Some weird audible effect of the adhesive they used to stick the foil down. He was annoyed with himself for being so stupid. Just open the bloody thing! He tore the foil off and looked down the pot’s contents. The screaming grew louder. Then the yoghurt began to bubble.

Wait, those aren’t bubbles. Tiny fingers broke through the yoghurt’s surface. They stretched towards Bill, hands and arms now visible. The screaming transformed into a dull moaning, the collective noise of something trapped in hell. Two dozen small arms stretched towards Bill’s face.

Eric, Bill’s co-worker, walked past and saw the arms pull at Bill’s tie, clawing their way to his head. Eric heard the moans grow louder.

“Bill, that yoghurt’s clearly out of date. And you’re due back from your lunch”

 

 

 

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