Pink

Pink cake, pink cookies, pink pralines, “It’s a cultural thing.”
I was in the local Tex-Mex place, famous and all that, with its attached bakery. I was asking the counter help, all replete in her ethnic frock, festooned with colors from the Mexican flag, and I asked, “What’s with the pink? Pink cake, pink cookies, give me a couple of those pink pralines, please.”

Her response? “Pink? The kids like it.” My companion just looked at me and shrugged.

The counter girl did a hasty retreat, but I was unperturbed. I’d like think that I am, indeed, immature.

Laeti edimus qui nos subigant!

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