"Christmas bugs. They were deep in the straw of the manger of Bethlehem, they stumbled, climbed, fell glistening red among a golden lattice of straw that must have seemed to extend miles upward and downward - an edible tenement-world, now and then gnarled through to disrupt some mysterious sheaf of vectors that would send neighbor bugs tumbling ass
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"i'll stop Magenta and Greening when i'm dead!"
[ i dunno / begining with gRainbow, there are pointed Howdyados on this particular theme litt'ring each novel / WATCH:
"a giant sporting establishment whose turquoise and crimson electric lamps were kept lit all night and daytime, too, for the place never closed..."
"...with fleeces dyed in a variety of fashionable colors, including the perennial favorites aquamarine and mauve."
"'Yehp, never could see green, bein a mauve man myself,'"
...'an there's plenty more from there (i.e., Against the Day) alone / a book i'm enjoying immensely (albeit in retrospect...). one imagines the visual field checkerboarded into daytime pinks and pale greens or, heavens, a deep, vibrant Chrismassy green an' Holiday red (visited, mayhaps, by a deep, heart-pounding VIOLET, color of SMOAK...).
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