In the pristine suburb of Willow Creek, Cassandra, a striking blonde obsessed with beauty rituals, discovered that Cleopatra bathed in milk to stay youthful. Spotting a tiny line near her eye, she decided a milk bath was imperative.<\/p>\n
The next morning, she left a note for her milkman, Arthur: \u201cPlease deliver 25 gallons of whole milk tomorrow. No bottles. Just the bulk. I have a project.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n When Arthur arrived, he squinted at the note. Twenty-five gallons? Surely she meant 2.5. Concerned, he returned later and knocked.<\/p>\n \u201cGood morning, Miss Cassandra. Did you mean two-and-a-half gallons?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, twenty-five,\u201d she replied serenely. \u201cI\u2019m filling my bathtub to look as young and beautiful as I did a decade ago.\u201d<\/p>\n Arthur hesitated. \u201cDo you want it pasteurized?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPasteurized?\u201d she gasped. \u201cGoodness, no! Just up to my shoulders\u2014enough to splash on my eyes without overflowing.\u201d<\/p>\n Arthur blinked. She wasn\u2019t joking\u2014her logic simply ran on a different frequency. Nodding, he backed down the steps to fetch the milk, bracing himself for the most unusual delivery of his career.<\/p>\n As Cassandra hummed a tune of ancient royalty and prepared her dairy soak, Arthur pondered Cleopatra\u2019s patience and wondered how she\u2019d manage twenty-five gallons without turning the neighborhood into a milk lake. But to Cassandra, a little misunderstanding of terminology was a small price for the promise of a porcelain glow.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"