Before we begin, it’s important to stress that I am not racist. While the Romani people did put a terrible curse on me and my descendants I don’t blame them for this. Heck if I had the power of casting hexes I would use it a plenty. I sure know enough people deserving of a good curse. I might say a few risque things in this story but they are all aimed at individuals not at ethnic minorities. In conclusion, I am not racist.
We humans think we have the world all figured out. We know that after night there must come day. We know we eat plants, we know we use cars to travel fast. We know there are 7 colours. But what happened to me changed these fundamental laws forever. Specifically there are only 6 colours now as a gypsy gave me daltonism, which is color blindness, that’s what this story is about.
Ever since I was a toddler I had been able to see all the colours. I would take great pride in impressing the teachers by discerning and naming each. My skill at identifying colours remained at peak levels throughout most of my youth. Keep that in mind as I take you back deep to that fateful day in my teenage years when it all came to an end (I was sexually aware at this point so it’s not weird if I call people sexy, okay). The carnival, which had an alien motif this year, had set up out of town and my parents thought it would be nice to take me and my cousin Dillian there. I would normally never say this about my parents but they were very fucking wrong this time, it wouldn’t be nice at all. My dad insisted me and my cousin rode in the trunk as the car was technically a display model and he wasn’t allowed to drive it for personal purposes. His fiat dealership was in hot trouble already and he couldn’t afford to get caught breaking the code of conduct. While he could pretend mom was just a customer he had taken for a test drive, the presence of two children would have been a dead give away that something fishy was going on. So there is was laying face down in the trunk, my crotch dangerously close to my cousins crotch. I suggested lying head to toe so that we wouldn’t have our junks so close together anymore. My cousin, Dillian, had too much hubris to even try my suggestion and just kept lying there like a very stupid piece of shit. I was in the trunk for a very long time only periodically hearing muffled, yet very loud, screaming coming from the cabin of the car. Only God knows how much time passed before Dad pulled me and Dillian out of the trunk, but it was decently long at least.