Sharing my short story from today. There was a post a few days ago about writing humor. I haven't been writing much lately but my experience in the paint store this afternoon inspired me to put a few words to paper. Wanted to share how humor sometimes finds you when you least expect it to.
Twenty Minutes at the Paint Store by Connie Estes Beale
“I don’t think that’s a color.” The sales woman shakes her head at the receiver in her hand.
“What color’s he want?” A salesman peers over her shoulder at the chart in her hand. She puts her hand over the phone and whispers, “Westin, Westin Cedar.”
“Stain or paint?”
“Is that a stain or a paint?” she asks the caller. “Stain”, she mouths to her associate. He shakes his head and goes back to the guy sitting on a stool at the other end of the counter.
“You were sayin’, Gus?”
“They look good but don’t reproduce well.”
I look over, perhaps raise an eyebrow.
“Show goats,” Gus explains. “Show goats just aren’t good breeders.”
“That so?” the salesman asks.
Gus nods, turns my direction to possibly check for interest in his subject. I look down at my phone.
“Did you see that color at the resort?” the saleswoman asks the phone. “No? But it’s a stain?”
“If they’re pretty, they just don’t produce much offspring,” Gus offers. “They look good but not worth the money if you’re trying to build a herd.”
“A stain. Okay. Transparent or solid? I still don’t see that color.”
“I went up to a breeder near Chicago for some goat sperm. They wouldn’t guarantee it.”
“Western?” I offer.
The salesclerk’s eyes light up as understanding dawns. “Western, Western Cedar? Like out west, not like the hotel?”
“Western!” her associate says.
“You misunderstood? No problem. I found it on the chart.”
“You just can’t have pretty and productive. It’s one or the other.”
I begin to giggle.
“Here’s your paint,” another saleslady says as she puts my gallon on the counter.
“No, I’m good.”
“Sorry for the wait.”
“Worth every penny,” I say with a smile.