Blue Milk

If you don't mind, take another look at yesterday's post.  I'll wait.  Okay, now that you're up to date, here are some more Pirates pictures.  And I know, the title of this post is "Blue Milk" but don't worry, we'll get to that in a minute.

Okay, now for the blue milk.  Watch this:

Now read this:

In a galaxy not so far away, nestled within the vast empire of Disneyland, there lies a quaint corner known as Star Wars Land. Here, amidst the bustling crowds and endless lines for iconic rides, there exists one peculiar stand: the Blue Milk Stand.

The Blue Milk Stand, inspired by the mysterious beverage from the planet Tatooine, was envisioned as a must-try for all Star Wars fans. However, reality had a different script in mind. Unlike the Millennium Falcon ride, which boasted lines longer than Jabba the Hutt’s tail, the line for blue milk was always blissfully short.

Visitors would eagerly approach the stand, eyes wide with anticipation, only to leave moments later with puzzled expressions and partially full cups. The blue milk had an unusual flavor – a mix between overly sweet cereal milk and a hint of...was that seaweed?

One day, Brandon, a die-hard Star Wars aficionado known for his willingness to embrace all things from a galaxy far, far away, was finally persuaded by his friends to give it a try. Brandon had devoured Hoth-themed ice cream and braved Dagobah swamp slushies, so what was a little blue milk?

Brandon approached the stand, his friends cheering him on like he was about to blow up the Death Star. He hesitated, looking at the blue milk with skepticism. “Come on, Brandon! You can do it!” shouted one friend, her voice echoing through the crowded park.

He took the cup, its blue contents shimmering under the Tatooine-esque sun. With a deep breath, Brandon brought the cup to his lips. The crowd fell silent, watching in anticipation.

Suddenly, Brandon recoiled. “Nope! Not happening!” He thrust the cup back at the bewildered vendor, his face twisted in an exaggerated grimace. “I’d rather kiss a Wookiee!”

His friends erupted into laughter, their cheers turning into playful jeers. “Brandon wouldn’t even touch it!” became the running joke of the day, spreading through Star Wars Land faster than the Millennium Falcon on a Kessel Run.

From that day on, Brandon’s reaction became legend. People would stop by the Blue Milk Stand just to see if anyone could surpass Brandon's hilarious refusal. But no one could match the sheer comedy of his dramatic rejection.

And so, the Blue Milk Stand remained the least crowded spot in Star Wars Land, a place where visitors could find a quick refreshment, a good laugh, and a reminder that not every adventure needs to be epic – sometimes, it’s the little moments that create the best memories.

End of Story.

Here's more of the longer story:

The Second Christensen Family from Blanding

Not far behind, Scot and Julene Christensen were embarking on their own journey with their two boys, Kevin and Brandon. Their car was filled with excitement and a bit of sibling rivalry as well.

"Dad, can we play the license plate game?" Kevin asked.

"Sure, why not?" Scot replied, adjusting his sunglasses. "But no cheating this time!"

"How do you cheat at the license plate game?" Julene asked, laughing.

"Kevin just makes up states," Brandon said, rolling his eyes.

"No, I don’t!" Kevin protested, crossing his arms.

As they drove on, Brandon kept a tally of the different states they saw, while Kevin kept insisting he saw Hawaii plates, despite being in the middle of the desert.

"Dad, look! Alaska!" Kevin shouted, pointing to a plate.

"That's Arizona, buddy," Scot said, laughing.

Julene smiled, shaking her head. "This is going to be a long drive."

An hour later, they pulled into a rest stop for a quick break. The boys raced each other to the vending machines, while Scot and Julene stretched and took in the scenery.

"At least they're getting along for now," Julene said, sipping her coffee.

"Let's hope it lasts," Scot replied, watching the boys with a mix of amusement and apprehension.