Thanks gypsies, now I have daltonism

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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.

It took awhile for my eyes to adjust to the light, but when they did they were met with a frightful sight. The fairground radiated a disgusting aura that made me sick to the pits of my stomach and then some. I’m not talking about the usual carnival crimes here. Even as I child I was well aware of the various scams and dirty swindles that happened at carnival grounds. While that kind of evil was also definitely going on, what I felt was far more demonic and scary. My bad feeling here was pure aura-feel, outwardly it looked like a pretty generic carnival. It was dirty and generally in a shabby state, the usual fare for these carnie breeding grounds. My mom took me and Dillian to the entrance and gave us 50 dollars. she told us we could spend it anyway we wanted as long as we didn’t spend it on any esoteric evils. I thought this was a very suspect thing to say. Then I remembered she was into spirit magic and crystals at the time, a fact that would ultimately draw the curtains on her (not the way you think, don’t ask), so I shrugged it off. She once again told me to not to use the money on anything occult. This was really starting to annoy me so I looked her dead in the eye, gave her my most epic smug smile and told her to “Buzz off Crystal cretin” (an insult I would deeply regret using in later life) and walked away.
The first thing I had to do was exchange my cold hard clams for carnival tokens. This system is mainly in place so that the greedy carnies can live their fantasies of having their own currency. I wasn’t eager to fall into their financial scam, but I was in their territory so I decided to play along. The line at the exchange booth was too long for my liking, in front of me where only a large toned african american man and a small old lady. I approached the large man and talked to him.
“Let me go first, I am going to exchange much more money then you” I said.
“What, what are you talking about” said the man in a menacing voice as he shot a look of pure anger directly into my eyes.
“I was simply asking if I might go first kind sir.” I whimpered.
“What, no.” barked the man at me like a rabid dog.
“Sir please relax I was just asking, don’t be mad” I said on the verge of crying.
“What no, uh..wha-” said the man at this point too angry to speak clearly.
My life could have ended right there if it wasn’t for the old lady who looked a lot more attractive up close. She shoo-ed the muscly nubian away and exchanged some choice words with him which I didn’t understand but felt very justified. She then gave me a pat on the head and a kiss on the cheek and let me go infront of her.

The man operating the exchange booth could have been the subject of his own true tale of terror if I’m honest but at this point I was tired and I just wanted my tokens. I tried giving him my fifty bucks but he told me he couldn’t exchange notes that big I thought that was real bullshit. At this rate I wasn’t gonna get any tokens and without tokens you were jack diddly at the carnival. I told the man to exchange what he could and get on with it. He told me some bs about exchanging 50 dollars of the equivalent of five dollars would be a really bad deal or something, whatever. I pressured him to get on with it, I didn’t have all day. The man grumbled and exchanged my money, finally! I walked away and rattled the pile of tokens in my hand. I had what was about 50 bucks american in gypsy money, a vast treasure to these people. I counted the tokens again and again, reveling in the power they gave me.

With vast wealth in hand I strided off towards the best part of the carnival: the coin pushers! Coin pushers are gods gift to the human race. It is the perfect blend of skill and luck, not that luck has any part in it when I play it. I skedaddled over to the large hall where the coin pusher machines had been set up but was very pissed off to see my cousin Dillian already there. I sat down by a coin pusher as far away from him as possible but given the small size of the room and the seats already taken this couldn’t have been more than 3 meters. Dillian started talking to me, the little rat, he clearly saw I was trying to avoid him yet he still talked. He still does that shit to this day. Anyway Dillian said that he was winning at the slots big time and also that I should apologize to my mom. I ignored his yammering and inserted my first token into the slot. The coin dropped just as the coin pusher pusher part was receding back into the chassis, a good drop! As my token was pushed it rattled some of the more front laying coins as well as dislodged a Harry Potter Hagrid keychain. A good first move, like a very short but expertly played game of shogi (japanese chess with powerups.) My second coin was more spectacular as the last, both bringing further movement to the keychain as well as uprooting an “Over the Hedge” hacky sack that was previously stuck like excalibur in the stone. The next two coins produced similar effects. My final drop devastatingly had no effect, I was crushed. How had I used up my whole budget? I looked over to Dillian and he was spending coins a plenty. It hit me, I had been scammed!

Angrily I strode out of the field looking for the carnie bastard who confidence tricked me. So blind was my rage that I was literally blind. I stumbled in random directions for just enough time to get completely lost. When I regained my sight I wasn’t able to find my bearings. This part of the carnival was just as dirty as all the other parts but I couldn’t recognise any landmark or anything. To make matters worse I could see the little gun stand where you shoot things but I couldn’t play because, of course, I had no money. With nothing left for it I started looking for any attraction I could ride without money. I looked and looked but in my search I had inadvertently exitted the carnival grounds and found myself in the field of ramshackle campers that the carnival folk call home.

One of the campervan doors was open and what I saw within was sweeter than honey. A real hot gypsy babe, like Esmeralda from the hunchback of Notre Dame but sexier and R-rated. She beckoned me into her little den and I had no choice but to oblige.
“Welcome child” she said in a voice that could melt butter. ”Seat yourself “
Her accent was a bit too ethnic for my tastes but very sexy nonetheless.
“Give me your palm so I might read your fortune” the words slipping out of her mouth like a snake out of a basket.
“Yes, of course babe” I said and winked. She looked confused for a second but soon continued.
“Oooh I see a lot of excitement in your future, your life will be rife with encounters with the exotic and mysterious.” I was only half listening as my eyes were transfixed on her large breasts.
“I am seeing so much it is overwhelming, i think I must switch over to the tarot for a more controlled reading. Is that ok?” she said. I gave a small grunt to say yes. She pulled out a pack of funky looking playing card and arranged them in a funky pattern.
“Pick one.” she instructed.
I grabbed one of the table and looked at it upclose. She was stuttering something about not picking them up like that but I knew better. It was the lovers card and my brain filled with images of hot sex flashing in my brain.
“What are you doing dumbass, put that down!” she yelled. ”Pay me and get out of here!”
“But I have no money.” I stammered.
She grabbed my wrist and pulled me upright, this revealed the boner I was hiding in my stretch pants.
“What the fuck!?” she said.
“Sorry babe I got no cash so just cool it honeypants.” I said regaining my cool and losing my boner in a flash.
“Are you a dumbass kid?” said the woman becoming less attractive by the second.
“Typical of your sort to resort to name calling when faced with an argument you can’t win.” I reasoned logically
“What argument what the fuck are you talking about…” mumbling the words as if the act of speaking was hard for her.
“If you can’t compose yourself I’m leaving” I said. But as I was exiting I felt a warmth on my back. Turning around to examine it I could see that the fires of hell had opened up behind the woman. Her eyes where as a snakes eyes now and she was generally more mystical and frightening.
“If you already think of the world in black and white I shall curse you so that your eyes follow suit by giving you daltonism which is red green colourblindness.” Spoke her now eldritch voice. I was cast into a swirling void and then the world went blank.

I woke up laying next to a pole not far away from the coin pusher hall. But what I saw when I opened my eyes was very scary. It looked like I was laying in a vast pool of blood. What was very odd was that the blood pool had the texture of grass. It instantly dawned on me that I was now cursed to have daltonism (I am very smart and could identify this disease instantly.) I got up, met up with my parents and didn’t tell them about my story. We left 15 minutes later as the police were able to identify my dads car.

To this day I still have daltonism, I don’t like to bring it up as people will often try to abuse this fact to trick me, very sad.

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