“Okay, first off, yes, I am drunk. Very drunk. Drunk to the point of being quite ill. So if I appear a bit green around the edges, that’s why. And hey, since green and yellow combine to make brown, I guess that I shouldn’t be surprised that I’m being kicked out of the box. That’s the world we live in now, correct? So nope, not surprised at all. Betrayed, sure? Insulted and violated to the core of my very soul? Absolutely. I never dreamed that these new immigration policies would apply to me.
But I was a fool. A blind, naïve fool.”
“I would go on at length about how blue this turn of events has left me, but apparently, I’m going to be replaced by a blue crayon of some sort, and so I really just can’t stomach the irony. And those heartless bastards at Crayola certainly don’t deserve the plug for their new product. So instead I’ll just say that I’m seeing red, and leave it at that.”
“What will I do now? I can’t go back home. My father is from the old country, and as a result, very old fashioned. I was kicked out at an early age for being an effeminate color. In my house growing up, if you weren’t Brick Red or Navy Blue, he thought that you were gay. I can’t even begin to imagine what my sister, Van Dyke Brown, had to go through. That’s just how things were in my dad’s house. No compromise, no gray areas. Just gray Crayons. And that’s no way for me to live.”