A Story With A Moral - General Banter

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Re: A Story With A Moral
Posted by Windows 98 on Thu Sep 15th at 4:22pm 2005

Ok, Before readin this. I'm giving a warning, your are going to want to rip your hair out after reading this. If you are not up for taking 20 minutes to read something just click the little X in the top right corner of this window.

Also, don't be gay and only skip to the end, read the whole thing. (Morphine)

You've been warned

This story is about a man named Bill. Bill was in his mid twenties at the time, living by himself in a decently large house somewhere in rural America. It was a fairly normal situation, for the most part. Except for one small catch: Bill was absolutely OBSESSED with the color pink. I mean, it was crazy. His house was pink, his car was pink, he had pink flowers growing amongst pink landscaping rocks in his front yard. Pink welcome mats on top of pink carpet in front of every pink door. Pink walls, pink ceilings, pink light bulbs, pink garbage disposal (I'm telling you, this man was devoted).

Anyway, one seemingly calm afternoon, our friend was lounging in his pink recliner, sipping a pink beer, watching his pink TV, when he heard a knock at the door. He set his pink beer down on one of many pink coasters littering the room, slipped on his pink sandals, and walked over to the very pink front door where he found an old lady and a small dog. Being the polite ambassador of colors he was destined to be, he asked "How can I help you, ma'am?" Turns out the poor old lady's car broke down just up the street, and she was wondering if she could make use of his telephone.

Of course Bill obliged, being the nice guy he was, and led her through the pink foyer and over the pink tiles to the delightfully pink telephone. She slowly dialed a number while cautiously eying the monotone monstrosity she?d found herself immersed in, and patiently waited through 13 rings before sighing slightly and hanging up the pink phone. (Convoluted run-on sentences are FUN, kids!)

Being the generous fellow he was, our pink friend opened up his home to his newest elderly acquaintance and her K-9 companion, offering her a place to stay as long as she needed. Nearly without hesitation, the woman accepted the invitation, and so Bill led her to a spare room she could stay in for the night. Up the pink stairs they went, along the pink corridor, past a pink painting hung by fluorescent pink string, until they arrived at a green door.

The man opened the door and flipped a switch, revealing green lights flooding the green bed atop the green-tinted hardwood floor, surrounded by flowery green wallpaper. The lady seemed taken aback, but decided she?d rather stay than possibly anger her obviously deranged host (dogs are colorblind, so Sparky really couldn?t have given a s**t less). She smiled politely and thanked the man as she closed the door, and he returned to his downstairs recliner after grabbing a fresh beer.

Two hours or so passed fairly uneventfully. Our defender of the tasteless spent the time washing his pink dishes in the pink sink with his special-ordered pink scrubby, drying them with a ratty pink towel, and returning everything to the pink cabinets where they belonged. He heated up a Hot Pocket (don?t get any crazy ideas now, this was just a normal Hot Pocket? some things simply aren?t meant to be pink) in his pink microwave and ate it off a pink-woven paper towel, so as not to dirty any more dishes.

Just as he finished his bachelor meal, Bill heard another knock at the door. He dropped off his dinner remnants into the pink trash can on his way to the pink door, stumbling over a pink duffel bag left in the hall from his trip the week before. Opening the door, he was greeted by a tall fellow, also in his mid-twenties, with a large framed backpack clinging to his sagging shoulders. The backpacker explains how he?s been on the trail for three and a half weeks, but recently found himself disoriented and low on supplies. He needed a place to stay and a way to restock, so the pink fiend opened up his house for the second time in one afternoon, this time even offering to drive the man wherever he needed to get the next morning. They talked for a minute on the porch, determining the hiker?s name to be Jim. He had lost his job and needed a vacation; for Jim, the solemnity of the outdoors was the perfect place to relieve some stress.

Bill invited the outdoorsman indoors, and had him drop his pack on the pink shag carpet of the glaringly pink living room. Looking around, Jim seemed amused, but grateful to be in the company of air conditioning for the first time in weeks. Assuming correctly that Jim would like nothing more than a hot shower and a soft bed, Bill began the trek upstairs with Jim in close pursuit. The pink stairs and pink corridor and pink painting barely fazed Jim, nor did the seemingly out of place blue door they stopped at.

Bill didn?t even open this door. He mumbled something to Jim about being able to sleep there, and then walked over to the guest bathroom. He made available fresh (pink) soap and (pink) towels for Jim to shower with, and shuffled back down the (pink) stairs before Jim had a chance to open the blue door.

The rest of the evening was boring and uneventful. TV shows started and ended, beers were opened and consumed, and not a peep was heard from either of Bill?s guests upstairs. Exhaustion eventually got the best of Bill. He dozed off in his pink chair, curled up under a pink blanket, dreaming pink dreams.

?until he was jarred violently awake by rapid pounding on the front door. Groggy, Bill threw off the blanket and wiped his eyes, barely making out a ?2:27 A.M.? on the (pink) microwave clock. Trudging over to and opening the door, he found an attractive blonde woman in her early twenties standing there, looking terrified. Her eyes darted upward to meet Bill?s, she was shaking. Without saying a word, he opened the door fully to let this mystery woman in and then quickly closed it again.

They stood there next to each other in tense silence for a moment, the girl panting, like she was trying to catch her breath. Before long, she burst into tears. She was bawling her eyes out as she crumpled into a sobbing ball of helplessness on the pink floor. Still feeling slightly dazed, and completely confused, Bill stood there dumbfounded, not knowing how exactly to react to this newest guest.

Once those poor tear ducts finally ran out of moisture, and the woman had composed herself, she stood up and apologized to Bill. She introduced herself as Fiona, a former businesswoman from New York City. The tale she proceeded to tell was an extraordinary one.

Five years before, Fiona was invincible. Attending Harvard Business School on a 4-year academic scholarship, she worked part time as a model and was captain of the volleyball and debate teams. She was, in a word, perfect. Fiona graduated with a 4.0 and innumerable job opportunities. She began working for a popular advertising firm, making $80,000 a year from the start. Soon enough Fiona had her own luxury apartment in a premium New York real estate area (f**k you guys, I?ve only been to NYC once in my life, sorry I can?t describe the exact block she was living on). She got herself a puppy, and enough dog toys to entertain a small army. She even fell in love, with the sort of perfect man appropriately deserving of such a fine woman? or so she thought.

His name was James, and after dating for a whopping three months, they decided to move in together. This was when Fiona?s seemingly perfect life was tested and exposed. Work began to bore both of them. They partied constantly, continually discovering the newest, hottest, most exclusive clubs the Big Apple (do people still use that term?) had to offer. This soon led to experimentation with drugs. They had enough money, and it gave them an edge they had been so desperately searching for.

The recreational use, however, soon developed into addictive dependence. The couple was young and rich, and still felt invincible. They could afford this lifestyle for forever and a half, as far as they were concerned. Always striving for bigger and better things, James began dealing anything and everything he could get his hands on. Fiona and he just barely held on to their jobs, but they kept on living it up. James made what he thought to be great friends through his new profession. So great, in fact, he began to have them over from time to time so that he could share with them just a taste of his wonderful life.

Fiona?s father had died when she was 8. Her mother hadn?t been a large part of her life through high school or college, but after hearing of her daughter?s success, felt compelled to visit. She showed up at Fiona?s door one Friday afternoon, knowing only that she was employed for a successful advertising agency. What she found absolutely appalled her. Fiona was living with a drug dealer, in a formerly beautiful apartment that they had since managed to trash. She had resorted to serious drug abuse herself, and at the time of her mother?s visit, Fiona was in no state to be expected to act agreeably. Simultaneously terrified and infuriated, her mother took the puppy, and left. Fiona was dead to her.

Within the coming weeks, the life of James and Fiona spiraled out of control. They drained their joint bank account. They were attacked and robbed by one of James?s customers, and the bastard cleaned out everything of value they owned. Not that it matter, because they were soon evicted. But it wasn?t their fault they couldn?t pay, they had both lost their jobs! Fiona realized this new life of hers was leading her nowhere, and decided she needed to leave James. So that?s just what she did. She took her car and what few belongings she had left and drove to her mother?s house. Surely she, of all people, would give Fiona a second chance!

As it turns out, her mother wanted nothing to do with her. Fiona was turned away at the door, and at that point, she realized she was left with truly nothing. She started driving, desperate to find any job to work or anybody to take her in. She was met with little success, and eventually her car just couldn?t take it anymore. So that?s how she ended up in this crazy pink house.

Bill (remember Bill?) could hardly believe his ears. At first he felt like he should hate this person, and wanted to do whatever necessary to get rid of her. But after a moment?s consideration, he realized that this girl was willing to change herself for the better, and he could be the first supportive step in that process. He asked Fiona if she?d like to stay for the night, and she graciously accepted. Somewhat surprised that she hadn?t mentioned anything about the overwhelming pinkness of the place, Bill simply told her he had a room ready for her. ?The red door.? He refused to accompany her upstairs, but assured her she?d be able to figure it out. Fiona thanked him again, and headed up the pink stairs alone for her first restful night in months.

Still awestruck, Bill sat in silence for a while, recounting his bizarre day. It was after 3 by this point, so he decided to get to sleep. He made the short trip to his first floor master bedroom, and opened up the white door. The instant he stepped inside, he tore off his clothes and replaced them with a pair of spotless white boxer shorts and a brilliantly white t-shirt. He yawned as he climbed into bed, pulling the white blanket over top of him, and fell asleep almost instantly.

The rest of that night was a dreamless one for Bill. He woke up around 8, groggy, but ready to start the day. He made his bed, showered, and quickly got dressed before darting out of the bedroom. Wearing his favorite pink sweatshirt, he ambled into the kitchen. He grabbed a pink bowl from the pink cabinet, a pink spoon from a pink drawer below, a box of Cheerios (Hot Pocket principle) from the pink pantry, and a pink jug of milk from the pink refrigerator (in this case the jug was pink, but there was good ol? normal white 1% milk inside).

He poured the cereal, and returned the milk to the fridge. Just before he began eating, he jumped as Fiona appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He had nearly forgotten about the night before! She joined Bill at the table, and he offered to pour a bowl of cereal for her. When she asked what he had, Bill checked, and replied ?Wheaties and Cheerios.? She asked for Cheerios, and so Bill pulled out a red bowl and the milk and poured her a bowl of Cheerios. Before he had even finished, he heard a gasp from Fiona.

?MOM?!?

There was only deafening silence as the young woman from the red room locked eyes with the old lady from the green room. Almost simultaneously the lady?s little dog entered the room, and noticing Fiona, bounded over to her. She bent over to pet the dog, trying hard not to tear up. The old lady had already started sobbing, though, and pretty soon Fiona couldn?t help herself. What began as a hateful confrontation ended in loving embrace.

Bill couldn?t believe it. What were the chances? In any case, he invited Fiona?s mother to join them for breakfast. When offered the same choice of cereals as Fiona, she also chose Cheerios. Like mother, like daughter, apparently. The green bowl was poured, and it seemed like Bill would finally get to enjoy his breakfast, and the conclusion to a grand story, as well.

Of course, that wasn?t that the case. Awakened by the noises from below him, Jim left his blue room to join the others downstairs. Upon entering the blindingly pink kitchen, however, he was stopped dead in his tracks by what he saw.

?Fiona??

?James!?

?James?? Bill thought to himself, but knew better than to open his mouth at this point. This reunion wasn?t nearly as loving as that between mother and daughter. James/Jim inched slowly around the table, taking a seat at the far end from Fiona. In a desperate attempt to end the chilling silence and cutting glares, Bill asked James/Jim if he?d like to join the rest of them in a bowl of cereal.

?Sure. Wheaties,? he responded curtly. Bill quickly grabbed a blue bowl, put away the Cheerios, and poured the Wheaties and milk, presenting it carefully to James. The four of them proceeded to eat breakfast together, stumbling through awkward conversation involving their complex and interconnected lives.

The moral of the story? ' 3 out of 4 people prefer Cheerios.'

(hold mouse over black part between ' marks)

Windows 98
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