A milky way

“It's actually the Milky Way”, said John.

He was looking down the little pool of liquid and the milk trail leading from the kitchen to the bedroom.

Everything led to the conclusion that the fight and consequent struggle had started in the kitchen. A bowl with mashed potatoes had been pushed from the table and lay in pieces on the floor. The table was pure chaos – plates and forks were pushed off. No table cloth. The fresh fruits from the bowl had been thrown … maybe against the wall? Or smashed? The cookie-jar was opened and laying on one side – its content could be seen spilled all over the floor. There were red stains on the floor and table, a bloodied knife could be seen in the sink.

“Did you see the clothes?”

This was one other thing – little piles of clothes lay unevenly spaced next to the milky trail. Couple of socks here, a shirt there and all leading to the bedroom.

They looked at each other and walked slowly to the bedroom where the perpetrator must be hiding out.

They opened the door carefully and on the floor saw him – he was laying scantily clad on his back with his arms raised above his head. Half eaten cookie in his right hand and his pacifier in the left one the baby boy was snoring his victory over human conventions like undies away.