العباسي يعتذر:دونية بسبب اللون الأسود

Black is Beautiful

Copyright 2003 by Daniel R. Snyder

A couple of weeks ago my girlfriend and I received an invitation to a black tie dinner being hosted by one of my colleagues. I'm kind of a black sheep in the English department, with more than a few black marks on my record. I thought I'd been blacklisted, so I was excited that we'd actually been invited to a social gathering.
I headed for the closet, intending to find something to wear, but when I stepped inside and turned on the light switch, nothing happened. The inside of the closet was pitch black. I couldn't see a thing.
"Honey," I asked. "Where's the extra light bulbs?
"In the cabinet in the office," she said, digging a pair out of black stockings from a drawer. "Behind the blackboard."
I stumbled into the office, spilling black coffee as black as my soul on the carpet, opened the drawer, but all I found was a black-light bulb. Still, anything would be better than rummaging around in a closet as black as night, so I went back into the bedroom, replaced the broken bulb, and started to search through clothes.
It didn't take me long to realize that I had nothing to wear. I had lots of black clothes: pants, black as coal; shirts, black as tar; and jackets, black as pitch. But no black tie. Needless to say, this put me in a black mood.
"Where's my black tux?" I asked.
"In the black bag with your black hat."
I found it, got dressed in black tails and a black cummerbund, stepped into the bedroom and asked, "How do I look?"
"You need a shave. You look like Blackbeard."
"At least I don't have a black heart," I said, defending myself.
We eventually made it to the dinner, but it was a disaster. They served blackened chicken and had an open bar, which is never a good thing for me. I have a serious weakness for Black Russians, and after I have a few too many, I start to make stupid and mean jokes. I've been accused more than once of having a black sense of humor.
I remember another party I attended where I made a complete fool out of myself. It was on Black Friday and I'd just lost a lot of money. Not that it's a good excuse, but all day there'd been a black cloud floating over my head because I'd recently managed to get my finances in the black, and now I was broke. I guess the guy I was talking to didn't appreciate it because he ended up punching me in the face. I blacked out, and when I finally regained consciousness a few minutes later, I had a pretty good black eye going.
Fortunately, nothing like that happened at the English party, but it was the exception, not the rule. You see, my life is usually like a black comedy, where nothing goes right. I usually just look forward to the end of the day when I can finally crawl into bed and go to sleep, letting everything fade to black.