Head to a Milk Bar

You wake up the next morning with a very dry mouth and hungry stomach. You quickly get changed into some fresh clothes, and start brushing your teeth. In the short 2 minutes, you mind flashes back to the bar you saw a little down the street from where you’re staying. You spit out your toothpaste, quickly tidy your hair, grab your hotel card and leave your room. You make your way out of the grand foyer and out the big glass doors, with a naturalistic, curvaceous female body in gold plating divided by the split between the doors. You walk down the street, the gentle patter of rain keeping the sky dark and cloudy with a slick, wet atmosphere. Many men look at you suspiciously, as seeing a woman clothed, walking equal to man is uncommon. You look up and see a big sign for a place called ‘Pete’s Parlor’.

Exterior of Pete’s Parlor

You decide to enter the bar looking for a traditional, local breakfast. You cross the street and push your way through the glass doors. The warm, dry diner is very welcoming compared to outside.

You slide into a comfortable booth, and a young women with a very large bust slides you a small menu. You look it over. You settle for the scrambled eggs, sausage links, and hash browns. As you relay your order to the waitress, she looks like she’s waiting expectantly. Finally, she prompts:

“And how would you like your milk? Bottled, fresh, or from the tap?”