The Hot Pink, The Florescent Orange

And now, a story from the days of my youth... (I was cleaning out my hard drive again)

"In the color of forest green?" cried Sir Robert Walshfellow Alfredricosnubury III with disbelief.

"In the color of forest green," said the messenger, and fled from the rage.

"Oh, what an evil day in an evil year," cried Sir Robert Walshfellow Alfredricosnubury III (or Sir Rowa for short). "The town of Bigganbetta, beyond the mountain range and forest and river and desert was very small in my childhood. Now it has grown so large that at last they are painting the wall."

"But why should a wall three thousand miles away make my dear friend the governor worried and mad so quickly?" asked his personal advisor.

"They painted their wall in the color forest green," said Sir Rowa. "Don't you get it?" Our wall is painted in the color forest green. No one will be able to tell the two towns apart."

"Oh."

They both thought and thought and thought.

Sir Rowa cried and sobbed and wailed. "It's hopeless! This city is destined to meet a miserable end.

"Okay," said the advisor. "Call in all your royal painters. You wear this headset, and I'll tell you what to say."
finish reading The Hot Pink, The Florescent Orange