It feels pretty weird when you use big fat wax crayons and start colouring. That’s pretty much what I did today. Me and my friend Chevy together starting using crayons to colour. At first I didn’t know what to do, so I saw all the colours and then picked up the one I liked the most: Orange.
Orange isn’t really my favorite colour, but it definitely is my favorite wax crayon. Orange represents cool things like oranges and setting suns and ripe mangoes and things that look orange but actually aren’t. It’s also a good representation of psychedelia; add many different streaks and patterns and shapes of all sizes and give it an orange background. That’s partly the reason why I like orange. The other reason why I like orange is because no other words rhyme with orange. I mean you can use some words that sound like orange, but you can never make a word rhyme with it. No wait. I just thought of a word that can!
I was feeling bored one day
So I pondered over what I should do
I started planning for my holiday
And I played some Pokémon too.
But then I discovered two things that rhyme:
An orange and a trench.
So what do you think? Am I not more brilliant than the millions of writers or poets or artists or whatever the call them these days that preceded me? That’s what this blog is about, really. It’s about how I’m a genius perched on my vantage point, chilling with iced tea while mortality suffers, while I observe them from far and wonder how some people can be so incredibly dumb. I bet I can find a word that rhymes with ‘silver’ too. Silver’s a pretty good colour, it bears the same prestige as gold, but it’s more down to earth and it’s a bit on the cool side of the colour wheel.
The snake that slithered
Saw it’s reflection
In a mirror that was silvered.
There. A genius proves ‘artists’ wrong again. Who makes up these stupid anecdotes anyway? I mean any word can rhyme with any other word. If someone tells me that I word cannot be rhymed with, I will swing on a swing and think about things like the phases of the moon, then I’d go home and drink some tea or coffee. And if I’m feeling up to it I’ll waste a few seconds of my life to prove them wrong.
Finally I’d like to end it by playing with the supposedly un-rhymable word ‘month’.
This time our vacation is really long
It makes us feel like a squirrel
Who wants an acorn, but can’t push the tree
Because it’s not really that strong.
Or maybe we’re like pirates, you know,
We’ll be away for months
And when we’re back we’ll have learnt
To pull off a few more stunts.