Village of the damned.
Red hair runs in my family as I have a few ginger aunts and uncles. My hair is dark brown, at least on my head. A bit over a year ago i decided to grow a beard. Nothing fancy just a chin only deal. Well facial hair is more colorful than most so my beard is kind of brown but for the most part it's red. I never thought much about it until one day my job took me to a small town called Imboden, Arkansas. It's the kind of place you'd never go visit or even stop at while passing through but I had to eat lunch there. I went in a small diner and ordered and as I was sitting there looking around I noticed it. All but one of the 12 other people in this diner had red hair. The one guy who didn't was elderly and mostly bald save for a few small white hairs which I'd almost bet used to be red at some point. I'm not claiming it's from imbreeding but I'm not saying it's not either. As I slowly realized this a fear like I have never known swept over me. I had never been so glad I had grown a beard in my life. It's probably the only reason the townfolk didn't lynch me. I mean these were backwoods ginger rednecks and I knew I was somewhere I probably shouldn't be. Now I grew up as one of about 10 white kids in a school of 400 other black kids so I was used to occasional teasing over differences but I've never been so scared or felt more a minority than I did in that situation, despite being part ginger myself. If work ever sends me back I'll pack a lunch.
(emuman cant afford PS so he beats MSPaint into submission, Thu 25 Feb 2010, 18:26, Reply)