Having a story with someone swinging a pink death scythe reminds me of Alice swinging the flamingos in Alice in Wonderland for croquet. However, had I been going for a horror story, pink death scythes don't instill enough fear though.
In any case, let's say such an event occurred. An antisocial person attends a social gathering where they get really stressed out, pull their pink death scythe out of their big truck in the parking lot, and start swinging it in response to their social anxiety attack.
One of the witnesses in the aftermath is trembling and covered in blood. The police officer asks her, "What did you see, miss?" She looks up at him with wide eyes and moans, "Slashes, pink, lots of screaming".
She enters her new shrink's office a week after the event. To her horror, the walls are pink. She huddles in a corner and rocks back and forth, mumbling, "pink".
Then she shields her eyes and balls her eyes out because she can no longer handle seeing pink without having flashbacks.
I would call this literary piece - The Trauma of Pink Scythe Warfare -
This story would be a way to make pink badass and make it so black is the new pink.
I would call this literary piece - The Trauma of Pink Scythe Warfare -
This story would be a way to make pink badass and make it so black is the new pink.
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