You eavesdrop on a conversation. Two young women are talking
about a guy. Their voices are high and annoying, they whine. Both wear pink
shirts and black pants. Young stupid women are the bane of your life. Never
been able to ask one out. And the one time you did – she laughed in your face
and left. Young stupid women who wear pink are the pests of society. They
should be put to sleep. They should not be allowed to breed.
You eavesdrop on a conversation between two young women who
wear pink shirts in a café. The café where you come every day to read and write
your stories. The same café you’ve been coming to for years. Where do these two
get off – coming to your café and spoiling your afternoon? Don’t they know
anything? Of course not, they’re stupid young women who wear pink. Who wears
pink anyway? It’s disgusting. Like strawberry ice cream that melts between your
fingers. Like bubble gum stuck under your shoe. Pink is the color of Pepto
Bismol and shortcake and salmon. Pink is not a human color. Should be banned.
You cannot help but eavesdrop on their conversation. They
speak loudly. You become more and more annoyed. Angrier and angrier. You’d like
to tell them: “shut up! You freaks. Shut up and crawl back to the hole you came
out of.” You’d like to smack them and shut them up for good. The conversation
drives you madder and madder. Until you have no choice. You have to destroy
them. You have to bring peace back to the café. You have to do what’s right. No
one else has the guts. No one else but you.
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