Pink

Pink

“So, what do you think?” John asked his sister Angela.

“It’s the wrong color.”

“What? It’s what you asked for!”

“I asked for pink.”

“This is pink.”

“No, this is coral,” Angela said.

“Coral... is pink.”

“Coral is pinkish, but not pink.”

“Well, what is pink to you?”

“It’s pink! Like pig pink, pink and blue pink, pink!

“Do you know how many pinks there are?”

“Pink! Just one!”

“How about blush, or salmon, or peach, or strawberry, or bubblegum...”

“Stop!”

“If you wanted plain old boring pink, pink, you should have said so.”

“I wrote it on that piece of paper, the pink paper...”

“I thought you wrote it just so I’d remember what color you wanted. Not that you wanted the color of the paper!”

“Well, I don’t want coral!”

“Well, I only agreed to paint for you because you were so busy. You can’t repaint until this dries, and by then I’ll be back at college. You’ll just have to repaint it yourself!” John stormed out.

Angela hated to paint, so she kept putting it off. Four months later it was still coral, but by then, she had grown very fond of it. Plus she always got complements from anyone who saw the room. It was really lovely.

Then one day she came home and John was there. “Surprise!”

“Did you get home early from college?” Angela asked.

“No I told you I’d be here tomorrow so could surprise you!” he walked her down the hall and opened her bedroom door, the room was now pink. It was very pink. Pink, pink!

Angela started crying.

“Are you crying because you love it?” John asked, hopefully.

“No!” Angela cried.

“Well, now at least I know why I have a problem with women,” he said quietly, “You’re all crazy!”