Color: Olive Green

If it weren’t for the sharp contrast of the pimento, the olive might have gone unnoticed. It was also helped by the magnifying properties of the chilling martini (vodka, Grey Goose to be exact, shaken, not stirred) in which it was marinating. As it was, the magnified and redly accented olive called me to the bar from across the room. Though by the time I made my way to the bar, the particular olive that had gotten my attention had already been claimed by some other hungry soul, I was OK. I knew other olives could aptly stand in.

Made brave by the beer already under my belt, I flirted with the ruddy bartender, hinting at the tip earning properties of multiple olives in my martini. Smitten with my own success, I savored each bite of my three-olive based dinner, trying to ignore the throat burning and mind numbing properties of the drink. Now this is what I call dinner…I’m just saying…