Things had never been the same since the paint factory exploded. The new formula for non-removable green paint would of course have been revolutionary in the conventional sense, but now they had to add an entirely new sense to the dictionary. In consequence of the igniting spark, the Earth's totality was instantaneously coated with a green rivaling even the collective green of the prehistoric trees that used to cover the planet before anyone had evolved the idea of chopping them down. This green was here to stay and people were delighted. Poets marveled at green rainbows. The Eskimos coined dozens of new words to describe snow of green hue. Drivers thrilled at the ease of maneuvering their vehicles in a world with no red lights. Green eyed boys fell in love with green eyed girls and enjoyed a green-skinned romance blessed by green stars. But despite all these wonderful changes, people still would not eat green eggs and ham.

Story #85