It all started when my parents were killed before my eyes by a struggling mime artist. He was packing a silencer, and everything.

Anyway, a few nights later I was left alone with nothing more than my thoughts. Literally, just my thoughts; my parents were dirt-poor, and what little they had had been re-possessed to pay for their funerals. Tough times.

Anyway, there I was, sitting in a tattered bean bag, wondering how best to get revenge on the performing artists that had taken everything from me. And the baliffs. They needed to get it, too.

Anyway, it was at this point that an empty milk bottle rolled down the alley, past my feet. And it was at that moment that I knew; criminals were known for their fear of calcium deficiency and brittle bones. It was at that time I realised that I must BECOME fear.

I became... The Milk Man.

... Or something like that.

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