It is with a heavy sadness and a light snack that we remember Flashrod Frankens, a stalwart centenarian who lived to see thirty-two presidents, two world wars, three depressions, seven teen wives, five black people and a ninja. “Flash” passed away Saturday, 113 years to-the-day he was discovered in 1899.

“Flash” is best known as S. Northland’s second-most disturbing milk man, a job he has faithfully performed since he was first hired as a delivery boy by Sunburrow Farms in nineteen-ot-six. Although quickly earning a reputation as a prodigy of milk delivery, Flash declined all promotions, refusing to accept any increases in title, amenities or pay. Subsequently, he has never had a truck nor a new uniform, and has been paid the same eight-cents per week for the past ninety-four years.

Braving the weather, a dog, and incessant pleading that he stop, the elderly milk man has struggled heroically against the yoke of an ox cart to deliver lead bottles of unrefrigerated milk to every stop on his original delivery route. The rural farmhouses of his youth have since been replaced by an upscale shopping district, making his unwanted deliveries of spoiled, turn-of-the-(last)-century-cow-fluids a charming ordeal for the town’s inhabitants.

Flashrod died of complications to his continued life-having. He passed away in the loving company of his shirt and pants.

In strict adherence to assumed traditions, Flashrod will be honored with a traditional Milk-Burial, whereby his body will be added to a large bowl of cereal and eaten by famous milkmen.