The Leader of Team Orange held a thin, glass vial in front of me. “You will drink this!”
I stared into his face twisted tight with tangerine anger. I squirmed and looked around the room for my faithful dog, Sam.
“I will NOT drink the serum. I refuse!
“Perhaps you do not understand,” said the Leader as he shifted his weight on his carrot tanned legs. “We have saturated this country. There are few, if any, holdouts!” The crew of Orange Fascists stepped closer to me. The Leader nodded to a big husky follower. He looked like the underside of cantaloupe. I noticed his nose hairs were slinking out over the sides of his nostrils. He scowled at me and touched the club hanging on the side of his orange suit.
Once again, the Leader of Team Orange smirked at me. “It was the people’s choice, I remind you. The people put us in charge. We are to take back this country, and we will, Missy, we will.” I really hated the color orange now. I would even give up salmon colored roses if a supreme being would whisk down and defeat the formidable force that surrounded me. I could hear Sam whining in the corner. He never liked strangers, especially these heinous scoundrels that were holding us hostage.
“You have never known true greatness. Greatness that builds economies of scale. Greatness that builds roadblocks, towers and walls of impenetrable steel. No, you have no idea. Do you really think there is value in everybody holding hands, whining about trees and whales, hooking up their flimsy solar panels? We say gut this earth for energy, rip it core center, drill, baby, drill! You sappy holdouts, thinking everybody deserves equal treatment, even an education! Equality is at an end, the strong survive. Basic biology. Drink it! Drink it now!” screamed the Leader.
“No, I cannot drink it! I will never surrender!”
“Very well then.” The Leader snarled through his teeth tainted in moss green stains. “We have Snowflake ovens, but you….” he narrowed his eyes. “You will get this!” He reached into a nectarine colored alligator bag and pulled out a large hypodermic needle. I watched in terror as he pulled the syringe and began filling it with pungent orange liquid.
“Someday, somewhere, there will be those in the world who will rise up against all of you! Against tyranny. They will lift their voices up, they will vow to be heard, they will understand the power of unification. They will band together to bring back all colors into the world. They will bring back the knowledge of honorable men and women!” I said to all of them.
“Blah Ha Ha Ha!” they laughed in unison.
The goon on my right had my arm in a tight, invasive grip. The needle made contact. I winced. The cold potion was tracing its way into my veins, the pain, the horror! I could actually feel the fiber of my being changing. I would become like them. I knew it. A fate worse than death. I could only turn my head to steal a last look at my beloved dog. Oh Sam, I thought. You have always been orange!