“I said I wanted pink! Not yellow, not blue, not fuchsia or magenta! PINK!” I yelled as I threw the clothes back at Malik. “But, black is so much better!” Malik insisted. “It’s so sli-” “I swear, if you tell me black is slimming one more damn time, I’m going to dump this dye tub over your head!” I yelled, interrupting my tailor as he began giving me the same argument he gave a thousand times before. “Now,” I continued, “cut that up into bandages, and make me some PINK CLOTHING!!” I was already wearing a white shirt, but I wanted my outfit to really pop. I love pink. It’s my favorite color. Most people here in Britannia like to run around decked out in black, and sometimes black, and every so often, they change it up with a little BLACK! My tailor was making me mad. My favorite ostard was pink. I had a pink cloak I had jacked off the corpse of one of Cupid’s savage archers. I wanted an outfit to go with it. Malik was the elite tailor I had known for so long. He preferred to dress in red, without a speck of black on him, so I wasn’t sure why he was so insistent on me wearing black. Malik worked hard crafting the perfect exceptional body sash, this time using pink cloth. I tried it on, and it fit perfectly, of course. Next, he began to fashion me some pants. “Nuh uh!” I yelled, stopping him. “Kilt. Not pants.” “Wait, you want to wear pink AND a skirt!?” “Hey, I don’t pay to you ask questions!” “YOU DON’T PAY ME AT ALL!!!” “Yeah, well now I see why! Now, make me what I want!!” Malik’s hands slid across the fabric and leather, crafting me the ideal outfit for one such as myself. After hours of sweat, he walked into the room, holding the perfect outfit. He insisted I put it on immediately, even helping me put them on. A pink feathered hat, a pink body sash, pink kilt, and even some pink boots to finish the ensemble. I had to go out and show it off. I recalled to Ocllo to strut my stuff. Everywhere I go, people pointed in shock. Man, I must look even better than I realized! After a whole day of people gawking at how awesome I looked, and even some coming up to me, telling me how brave I was to wear such a thing (I know, it was a strange thing to say. I wasn’t sure what that meant), I knew I had made waves all over Sosaria. After I arrived home, I decided to bathe. When I removed the kilt, I took a look at the back of it. How often do you look at the back of your clothes? Well, you should do so more often, especially when you spent hours cursing at the person making them. I slowly looked up at Malik’s smirking face. Revenge was a bitch, and I had a full serving of it.
