Squeakers

Mummy-Bear, have you seen the antiseptic cream anywhere?

I yodelled as I proceeded to throw the contents of our kitchen drawers onto the floor in my fruitless search for something I wasn't even sure we owned.

Eh, we don't have antiseptic cream?! You know we don't believe in that kind of stuff.

The Good Lady's voice echoed from the lounge.

I rolled my eyes so hard I spun around slightly. Of course we don't believe in that stuff. Like real stuff that works. Oh no. I bet we had a million jars of calendula flower and beeswax though.

I snorted and threw my head back like an otter with a fish.

Fine, I will just die of the heebie beebers then.

I walked into the lounge nursing my elbow which had a tiny little friction burn on it from when I slid down the big slide in the park with the little lady the day before. It was stinging a little and annoying me.

The Good Lady was there with her friend and mentor from the Doula world, Olette.

And what have you done to yourself, Daddy?

Husked Olette as she sinuously unwound from her seat and approached me.

I made a face like an old man who can't find his slippers at her use of the word Daddy.

It's nothing, just a wee burn.

I said in my best grizzled old warrior voice. A voice that implied I had just returned from battle, wearily placing my bloodied and terrible axe by the fire and staring hollowly into the flames, the screams still ringing in my ears.

Oh, is it just a wee burn?

Said Olette seemingly attempting to mimic me.

Hmmph, try again when you have a big pair of nadgers hanging between your legs, lady and you might be close.

Aye. A wee burn.

I said dismissively.

I pulled my hand away from my elbow where it had been nursing my massive wound. Before I could blink Olette had snatched her hand out and grabbed at my arm, pulling it this way and that, casting a witchy eye over it.

It is just a wee burn. Just a wee one. It needs something though. Something to soothe it and help it heal.

I hoiked my arm back out of her grasp.

It will be fine.

Olette pursed her lips and looked to the Good Lady.

What do you say? A little milk perhaps?

The Good Lady snorted, a merry glint in her eye.

Yeah, that would work.

I looked at the pair of them, puzzled by their sisterly shenanigans.

Yours or mine?

Asked Olette.

Yours, I am feeding the little boom.

Responded the Good Lady with a giggle.

Olette turned back to me.

You hear that. A little milk will heal it. Lucky for you, I am still expressing.

She started fumbling with her top. I blinked several times. It looked like she was rummaging around with her boobs. Hey, what was going on? Surely she wasn't going to give me a diddy-ride in front of the missus? That would be a bit wrong. Wouldn't it?

Would it?

Erm, what are you up to?

I said, puzzled.

Olette stopped hauling at her thunder-bags and looked me square in the eye.

I'm just going to hand express a little milk and put it on your "wee burn."

She said with a wicked glint in her eye.

Neiiiiiiiiighhhh!!!!

I reared up like a deranged horse and danced skittishly about the room.

What?!?! No, you bloody well are not?!

She stood, rummaging deep under her top and approached me with an eyebrow raised.

Oh come on, it's just a wee bit of milk?

I skipped to and from as if being whipped with stingy penises.

Not bloody likely!

I ran.

Squeaker milk... on an injury!? These truly are the End Times.