Life As a Red Crayon

We are all made of cheap wow gold" wax on an assembly line. We are molded one by one and covered with a labeled paper. Then we are placed into a box where we are forced to live together. I am the color red, and every other color in the box is jealous of me. I feel envious glares from female crayons along with promiscuous eyes of male crayons. I am warmth from a fire. I stand for the passion of two lovers. i bring sentiment in the form of roses. I am the blood of Christ on Sunday mornings. I symbolize patriotism, liberty, and revolution. Red is the color of a fire truck that aids in rescue. I am the color of wow gold" lustful seduction. She loves to involve herself in preaching to all the other crayons. I never listen to a word she says. She calls herself the love of truth. She claims patience as her virtue. I think purple is the color of mourning, regret, and humility. The only thing I think of when i see purple is an buy wow gold" annoying singing dinosaur. She even brags of her cousin fuchsia. The leaves of the changing season turn to orange. Well I'll have him know that the leaves also turn to red and those are the beautiful ones worth remembering. The only thing he truly stands for during the fall season is wow power leveling" the dreadful holiday, wow items Halloween. Orange is a reminder of Satan himself. He is the color of fire and Hell. She pretends to be intelligent and preaches about high values. I think yellow is nothing but a coward. She hides behind all of those lies. She states she is the color of love, and that gold is buy wow items" simply a beautiful shade of yellow. Gold might be shined up yellow but that's all it is. People have been fooled and should not mistake this cowardly yellow for love. A romantic dinner includes spaghetti and meatballs not macaroni and cheese. He speaks of hope and prosperity. He acts like he would really know what life was like outside of runescape gold" this box. I think he is full of envy, jealousy, disgrace, and madness. He can't stand that he isn't an actual color but instead a product of blue and yellow mixed. That's right, he is a biracial crayon. It was a dreadful mistake the night that blue and yellow hooked up. Now we are all stuck with the consequence of their awful mistake. I am appalled that I have to share Christmas with him. Why me of all colors to have to share a holiday with him? It was probably some rights activist group that got him a spot on sto credits" this holiday. Then they stuck him next to someone as pure as me. He stinks like a pine tree while I smell of sweet cinnamon. To top it off he gets St. Patrick's day all to himself. The foolish people around the world don't know the truth behind the color green while they partake in drinking green beer. He says it is his job to guide and provide for us. Blue, in my opinion is a cold, sad, depressed, and lonely crayon. Someone should counsel that guy. It is plain to see that he is full of doubt, discouragement, and shame. She acts as if every crayon should take a bow in her honor. I never will. She has the tip of her crayon so far stuck up in the box that she doesn't realize she is ghostly, blank, and plain. She's a snob, too. She likes to make nasty remarks, especially about me. She refers to my color as "hooker red." She is a sign of purity like a white wedding dress worn by a bride on her third marriage. White is just jealous that I am noticed and she wouldn't even be noticed if anyone removed her from the box and tried to color with her. He is a ladies' crayon. He appears to be mighty, dignified, stark, sophisticated, and fertile. He is the color of the night sky. A night filled with passion and risk. I have found him hard to resist. My wax melts in his company, but once the temptation overcomes me I realize he reminds me most of evil, nothingness, sin, sickness, and death. She pretends as an elder to guide and teach. She reminds me of old age and grief. She is a geriatric crayon suffering confusion. She enjoys to glitter herself up and change her name to silver. Everyone knows true love is symbolized by a single red rose. He claims to be the color of taste sensation, but he fails to mention the spare tire it will leave around the waist. Brown reminds me of excretion. He even smells foul. Worst of all her claim to fame is being a shade of red. She is a disgrace to my family. It was a mistake many years ago at the wax mixing plant. Some intoxicated employee poured white wax in with the red wax. The crayon company was too cheap to eat up the mistake and dispose of this crayon, so instead a label with the word pink on it was made. It appeared to the public that someone in my family was filthy, lost control, and rubbed waxes with a white crayon. So, I stand here now to set the record straight. I am the best crayon in the box. The other crayons want to be me or rid the box of me. No other color will ever obtain the spark I have. I am the color of burning passion and lust-filled obsession. I hope soon to be reunited with other red crayons in a big crayon bucket. Until that happens, I am stuck here.
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