Over dinner last night, I pleaded my sister and the househelp not to wear red, anything red, today. Otherwise, I may not be able to control myself I will head to the bedside drawer for the gun and shoot them. I didn’t want to be the first case recorded ever on police blotters and psychiatric journals of carrying so much rage on a certain color it actually led to homicide. It’s not flattering.
I woke up today in pleasant mood. No one in the house wore red. The only red item before me on the dining table was the tomato ketchup served alongside the ham omelette I had for breakfast.
1 comment:
but if you shoot them there'll be more red.
and crimson.
and maroon.
hmm.
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