In English class, our free-writes have become less and less and inspiration for brilliant writing, and more a half-assed attempt at observational comedy, practical use of irony, and attempting to oversaturate our writing with puns. This possibly has something to do with the decline of the prompts, but also to do with being lazy hooligans. In order to spark a fire of literary passion, we had two quick-writes today. The first was a picture of a gender-questionable figure titled, "The Astronmer." The second was the title of this post. Immediately, I knew what to write about. Frightening as it was to find spontaneous inspiration in that statement, it flowed. For some time now, I've disliked the color orange. While generally associated with a fruit, a vegetable, and Trisha of the past, it reminds me of JoeKat, specifically, his social faux pas regarding me and prom. Orange was, and possibly is, his favorite color. It's completely unreasonable to make the association to such a specific event. Colors have never done anything against me, and I'd assume they're unaware of my existence. Still, I insist on this unjustified persecution of orange. Finishing the prompt, satisfied with my answer, Mrs. Arters said, "If you know anything about the word and the English language, you should get this one." and asked the class to answer in choral why they felt sorry for orange. There were two responses.
"Because in English, the fruit was named before the color and it's having an identity crisis."
"Because it doesn't rhyme with anything!"
My blundering response was unheard and inappropriate for the mass of voices saying the same thing. Apparently the only child in the room who had not realized the loneliness of the unrhymed word, it was a "D'Oh" moment. Eric wrote about a girl named Orange, who will never have a song written for her because of her unfortunate fate. While that temporarily issued smug relief (because I have a song written for me), I still ended that prompt with an awkward taste in my mouth.
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