Amos Hart--Cutlass Blue

   
   "Amos Hart--Cutlass Blue"
   
   Ginger's scarlet mop; moreover, an explosion of girly curls that crowned a pair of emerald-green orbs pointed at Amos in the face, and with her bird finger no less, exclaiming:  "Dude--those eyes are hazel, you blind fool.  What's that, like 7 percent of the world's population?"
   Amos puffed on his cherry cigar:  "Shit, like the metaphysics is talking again.  Gonna get locked up Ginger.  Besides, I like chocolate brown--it paints my blonde nimbus with mystery and savory copper flavor."
   Ginger struck back:  "If you want your cage rattled, deny yourself.  And don't think the lady with purple eyes doesn't care--she was there to encounter you, so delicately, and you piss it all away on worrying."
   Amos blew a smoke ring, not like Gandalf:  "Tricks are for kids and shamans.  They taste good."
   Ginger's face flushed to match her passionate mane:  "And the blood is the life.  Too, spirit counts--gotta have that gel."
   Amos fed up:  "Look, are you gonna help me save the bunnies or what?  Coyotes freak people out, and these spoiled suburban types living on golf courses while the homeless rot--well, they are very keen on shielding their rabbits from a canine's carnivorous grip, even though coyotes are omnivores, like Bucko, he even drinks Coke; next, after licking it up, offers a big burp."
   Ginger kissed him fiercely, on the mouth, just to remind him, there was no carnal cravings involved--it was just an anti-gravity anchor, so that he wouldn't be pinned down with pessimism; then, she smiled, saying:  "Okay, save the coyotes, and the suburban bunnies.  And by the way--George Washington wouldn't have survived with the press as it is today."