Friday, April 12, 2013
Part three of three in the Colour saga. All true...you can't make up this kind of stuff!
No doubt, one day, there will be a part four. Most likely a part five.
* * *
Killing time while waiting for a car part for my Honda Civic Si, we wander through the show room, admiring the shiny colours and gleaming chrome of my Honda's brothers and sisters.
It isn't long before a salesman pounces on us like a feral cat.
“Is there something I can show you?” he asks, all but wringing his hands.
I wander over to a CRV and admire the colour.
“It’s a wonderful shade of blue,” I breathe.
My husband lays a hand on my shoulder and, in an apologetic tone, says to the salesman: “She’s colour blind.”
I throw him a questioning look and he says, in a tone reserved for explaining difficult concepts to children, “It’s green, dear.”
The salesman stares at me, forces his lips into a shallow smile. His pasty face shifts into an expression of solemn pity, as though my inability to differentiate between green and blue is a tragic handicap that will diminish my quality of life.
"Too, bad," I say to Chris. "If only it were blue."
Knowing the ruse, Chris plays along.
He shrugs. "Maybe next time." And he leads me away to the parts counter.
I glance back, and Mr. Slick's smile is now a thin line.
"Blue that, buddy."