Yellow

What do you mean, you don’t see September?

I mean yellow is April, or it’s June. Depends on the hue.

And it’s an hour?

From 4 to 5 o’clock every afternoon.

It’s a little smokey in here.

You think?

I don’t know, man. That’s some crazy shit. Like, I can’t even think where September is on the map right now, let alone what the fuck color it is.

You’re all fucking idiots. A) September isn’t an hour, it’s a year—last year—and B) it’s yellow.

Knock knock.

Did you invite someone?

Nah, you?

Nuh-uh.

You gonna get it?

No.

Knock knock.

Who you think it is?

Pizza guy.

No, man, we ate that an hour ago.

Well fuck if I know.

Knock knock.

You gonna get it?

Yeah, I guess.

(The door opens. A blue man stands in the doorway.)

Can I help you?

No, you’ve done enough already.

(The man yanks him out of the apartment and slams the door.)

Holy shit!

(His voice squeaks as he stashes the pipe behind the lamp.) What just happened?

Well open the door and look, dipshits! (He gets up and opens the door, looks around outside, then steps back in the apartment and shuts the door.) No one’s there. (He sits back down,)

Should we call someone?

I say we go find him.

No way, man. I’m not going near that fucking door.

Idiots. (He says to himself as he gets up and walks to the kitchen.)

Knock knock.

Shhh! Fuck! (He whispers.)

Knock knock. (Louder.)

I’ll get it, big babies. Someone’s playing a joke. (He walks from the kitchen to the door and turns the knob.)

(A blue man stands in the doorway, grabs him by the shoulder, then pulls him out and slams the door.)

(Crying.) Nu-uh! (He runs to the bedroom and opens the door. A blue man stands in the doorway, grabs his arm, yanks him in, then locks the door.)

I told those motherfuckers it wasn’t yellow. (He waves off the smoke and reaches for the pipe.)

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