to everything, there is a season
(stine in--)
Times like these require split second decisions.Orange or Yellow?
Quicker than he can think, he opts for the pink jacket,
complementary purple helmet and oh so sassy black boots. When he first came to the station, it was all yellow and black, yellow and black, blah blah blah. He'd had a hard time getting the other guys to have their colors done, but once they did, things really picked up around there,
and work was a much more attractive place.
Mike is a delicate winter. Unless he wants to look washed out, that yellow will never work for him.
His mother took him and one of his girlfriends to have their colors done back when he was 20. He thought it was a joke, but when Sidney, the colorist spoke, he'd found certain universal truths that couldn't be denied.
"No matter where you are, or when," Sidney paused and bestowed his final wisdom in a heavy sigh "you must look fabulous."
Sure, Sidney was a guy's guy and man among men, but he had a point, and Mike started to realize that, darnit, he just felt better in his proper colors.
As the truck rounds the corner, Mike sees that 923 1/2 Jefferson is the chartreuse bungalow with goldenrod trim.
Our hero is worried.
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