Why I Hate Orange 300-word flash

The almost true story of why I hate orange and oranges.

Why I Hate Orange
 

“I hate, loath and despise the color orange. It all started when my family vacationed in a house with an orange grove. I was walking through the trees smelling the sweetness of it with a coffee in hand , when oranges began flying at me. Although I ran, I couldn’t outrun the attack. I was hit from all sides. They landed hard too!

“When I turned to run the other way, a barrage of the fruit hit me on the back. I began to slip and slide on the fallen fruit too. It didn’t take me long to figure out who it was. My younger cousins were hiding in the trees, pelting me with windfall. I couldn’t retaliate since they were much younger than I and thus, were expected to be tolerated.

“By the time I reached the house, I was orange . My skin had turned orange and so had my hair. Desperate to be rid of the sticky mess, I used the outside faucet and hose to rinse myself off. Dripping, I snuck into the house and tried to slip upstairs to the shower.

“I was half-way up the stairs, when my brother saw me. ‘What happened to you? You look like you’ve been rolling in orange!’ '‘Don’t bug me!’ He trailed me to the bathroom until I slammed the door in his face. I stood in that shower for an hour and soaped myself at least three times.

“By the time my skin was puckered, I was a little less orange, but not much. I went to my room and changed. My young cousins came in, still giggling. When they saw me and the look on my face, they scattered.

“That’s why I hate the color orange and never drink the juice to this day.”