I DON'T SUCK YELLOW rev.

Ew! What are you doing?!

I’m giving you a straw. I thought it might be better than a plain glass of water. Somewhat decorative. I have no tiki fruit spears or umbrellas…and presentation being everything, I thought….make some kind of impression, other than a schmo offering you tap water in a fuck'n-faded-beer glass…but, I could…

Stop! Jeezzuss. #@*&^#@ ... I appreciate the straw…and all…the thought, and consideration that went behind it…before it…whichever went…where...

Great. So what’s wrong? Mint? Lime?

Don’t be an asshole.

Oh? So…?

It’s yellow.

­­

Yellow - is a problem?

Have you ever heard of the term: "Chromo-phobia...?"

I sense the meaning...but, please, this is your call. Elucidate. 

I can’t suck on a yellow straw.

(silence)

                                
         (longer silence)

Do you want to do the ‘close-your-eyes’ test?

You mean, ‘guess the yellow?”

Yes.

Fuck, no! That means something yellow just slipped though my lips.

Fine. But, It’s the same fucking plastic that went into the hot pink, and color is just light so let it go. Close your eyes. Block the light and suck.

No way. Not sucking yellow…especially in the dark. ..and you are NOT the first guy to try that...

These are not ‘glowing magic fairy wands’, so how would you know?

Stop. If you had "a glowing magic fairy wand" I would know it. So, Fuck you.

Okay. You're right. I'm just not sure why...and you say 'fuck-a-lot', so..???

There’s a terror factor, okay? Leave it at that or I start to creep you out very quickly

What?

Sorry I meant, ‘freak you out’, but they both apply. So shut the fuck up, and enough about 'yellow straws'.

Ok. Good.

Now, what’s for dinner? Smells great.

Well, it’s a theme…but not necessarily. We’re having spaghetti squash with a butternut-puntanesca, habanero-mango chutney, a grilled thai yellow-curry yellowtail…on a bed of saffron rice… ‘the triple yellow’, we call it. “They call me triple yellow…”

Are you fucking with me?

Do you know the price of yellowtail?

Was it substantial?

ss…standardized

…sustainable?

I couldn’t tell you, whatever that question just was…

Mercury content! Let me check my…app…okay? What ocean?

Have no idea.

Supplier? Outlet?

Let's just say "a finer restaurant in this fair city"...

Direct or indirect?

Definitely indirect.

Lawful or unlawful?

Substantially unlawful.

Decent or indecent?

Definitely indecent.

Agreed.

Agreed?

Agreed.

Really?

Really. Your bed? What color are the sheets?

You don’t want to know.

Willing to find out.

Willing to throw them out the window.

And off they went.

Postscript:

Harold was just preparing himself for the long drive out of the city, back out to the 'burbs, and had initiated a dialogue with his 'onboard genie' -  

"Suni...! ?"

"Hello, Harold." 'she' responded. 

Secretly he craved their drives together, her voice - casual, intimate, almost sensual....so reassuring....and she seldom failed (except for the 'one-time', but they fixed that with the factory re-call...). 
He would often chat her up, asking inane questions like "What's the best pizza in Schenectady?" even though it was seven hundred miles away.
 ...or, he'd tease her and make sexually suggestive requests...to fill the boredom, but, much like home... "Oh, Harold, you know I can't do that."

 "Okay. Pick up messages, Suni..."

In that moment his eyes may have strayed, because his next line was: "WHAT THE FU...!!!"  (SFX)

It appears at this juncture Harold had experienced a blinding 'yellow-out' like none before, which, color aside, and the bedsheet clinging to his windshield, obliterating his view, caused him to panic and collide with several of the parked, and otherwise, vehicles along the way, hither and sway ...crash....bang 

"Harold!?... Harold?!..." was all Suni could say, with each collision. And with each 'collision' it became a little hotter...frantic...freaky...

... until the finale: A...newly detailed recently RE-fueled, only hours before...it definitely did not come into view...the BEEMER?!...like some Germanic Opera, the Silver Bitch - BLEW!

Such a 'Big-time boom', so sudden, so massive... Suni had no chance to say Adieu .

"Oh, shit," they said in unison, upon hearing the massive 'repercussion' of their passion from the street below, so rudely interrupting their probing penetrations, as the blast blew out the windows about them. 

"I told you about  yellow...!" she screamed.

" 'Oh shit'...very deep," thought he.

V

Trajectory be damned

Tom Burgher had escaped a single shot shattering his sixth floor window whizzing past his head before planting in the wall of his kitchenette. The police question him, they examine the caliber, which apparently was high, but a mess, and determine a trajectory to be flat if not slightly downward. It most definitely did not come from the street below because the blow would have entered his ceiling from that severe an angle, and the view of the target, if indeed it was aimed and fired with intent, would be extremely limited. No, this came from out there. 'Where' would be impossible to determine, but it appears the glass may have deflected the bullet, perhaps saving the Intended yet, in so doing, left them with no sense of its source. 

Questions asked but gone unanswered, they stood on his landing, and stared at the thousand windows staring back. Burgher knew then, it was time to move.

 V

OUT IN THE COLD

I do NOT want to know how shitty things are going

…nor, how happy we can be.

You see, none of it matters -

what we hear

the blabber

deafened 

by the chatter

blinded 

by the clutter

overwhelmed 

by distraction

from your reality

through your ‘Digitality’

none of it matters

until it goes 

dark

you don’t know panic

until that day

Man evolved

  but out in the cold...?

even those that think they do

don't really have a clue 

V