"I was looking at a bottle of milk. What color is it? White. None. Boring. White is the result of mixing all seven colors of the rainbow. But I don't see that brightness. I open the bottle and pour the milk on the floor. It spills out in a dull, monochromatic puddle. I was expecting some interesting shape. The taste of the milk was bland. Multicolored milk spilling out in the shape of stars and comets is what another child told me. Why can't I see it? I'm longing for it."

A gentle twilight enveloped the circus arena, a sure sign that Milk was about to appear. Silence reigned, broken only by the rhythmic, unhurried clatter of tall black boots. The illusionist raised his hands in a slow and graceful movement, and the hall, as if mesmerized, began to applaud. Milk snapped his fingers sharply, and the audience fell silent.

A large can filled with milk was rolled onto the stage. A few random spectators tapped on it and turned to see if there were any secret loopholes. Milk jumped into the tankard, waving dramatically one last time. The assistant also poured milk on top of the illusionist, and then put a bunch of different locks on the lid. All this construction was covered with a screen.

A minute, two minutes passed, the audience began to worry and murmur, is Milk still alive?

Three minutes later, the screen was removed. Milk with a bored look sat on the bidon and playfully dangled his leg, all wet.

But everyone knows the secret of this trick a long time ago. Incredibly boring, isn't it? Hmm...how about...

Milk snapped his fingers. The scenery quickly changed to a somber, funeral-like setting.

...my funeral? I'll be buried right in front of your eyes, see if I can get out of the coffin, or will it be a real funeral? But I need an assistant to make sure the performance is fair. Roulette, please!

A tape measure was brought out for Milk. He reached in and pulled out a card.

Row 10, third place! Yes, yes, you, come on stage, please!

The lights are pointed at you. Milk looked at you expectantly.