Entry F3
Yellow!
Those cheeks! Two symmetrical, perfectly formed cheeks…resting on his hallowed chair. "1-2-3 Testing, Testing" came from the front of the room again. It was time to take a seat, any seat, and off he deftly went, half filled glass in hand, to assume his position.
Luckily there was one spare where, although he could not see the bar, he could see HER, with her two piercing blue eyes. She looked the sort who would have a soft voice and yet would spend hours a week in aerobic classes practicing pelvic thrusts. “I like to watch the Bar you see" she whispered to him and smiled the kind of smile that if bottled and distributed free would cause Pfizer to go bankrupt overnight.
The talk was boring. Something about the role of induction in company planning. John couldn’t really remember…until the final minute….. “Well that concludes the talk. In keeping with other evening sessions we will now have a raffle. David will mingle with his raffle tickets – all contributions welcome. The winning ticket wins this bowl of fruit.” David minced among the audience. There’s a whole story linked to the mincing (a rather sad case of cross-breeding of hemorrhoids) which is best left for a title other than ‘yellow?’.
100 tickets were sold. 30 sandwiches were eaten. 60 glasses of wine were guzzled. ‘And the winning ticket, on the yellow, is 69’ beamed the announcer.
‘That’s mine’ purred Miss ‘symmetrical cheeks’ as she moved, nine inches above the ground (or so it seemed) to the front. John was now totally transfixed. This apparition! The fragrance! This…vision! He ambled over, trying not to walk like an on-heat ape. ‘69 eh? Most appropriate’ he whispered trying to make it funny and inviting at the same time.
She turned and smiled. ‘And on the yellow too’ she replied, ‘I like things on the yellow. At home I have a yellow carpet, a yellow counter pane and yellow tiles in the kitchen’. John felt a strange tingling of excitement. He felt like he’d seen an oasis in a desert – and he could have it all to himself.
‘Maybe you should show me’ he spluttered in what he hoped was a slow, earthy delivery. ‘Follow me’ came the voice – and then she had gone.
John followed as fast as was polite i.e. immediately. They reached the car park in seconds. Her car, naturally, was yellow but John did not want to risk an early advance. He slid into the passenger seat, reassuring himself that his cologne was still fresh and he was wearing clean underwear as his Mother had always advised. Within 10 minutes they were at ‘Chez Yellow’, 69 Clarendon Street, Birmingham.
She inserted it quickly and the front door swung open responding to the gentle pressure of a protruding key. As John walked in he could not help but notice the three cheeky monkeys sitting on the window ledge facing inwards. Their pink bums displayed for all to see.
She had been right. Everything in the house seemed to be yellow. Yellow carpets, staircase, furniture covers, and tiled floor – even the telephone (BT Issue) was yellow! ‘I am a member of the Church of Wheat’ she said, ‘we worship everything that is yellow as this is the colour of life. There is special power in the colour but also in the word. The most powerful effect is felt if ‘yellow’ is said at the height of excitement so only ‘Yellow! Yellow! Yellow!’ can be heard. It has to be real, not forced. Natural not artificial. Can you help me reach that pitch?’