Saturated.

There was a man I once knew who decided that he would paint himself green.  For what purpose nobody knew - except for him of course.  I met him while he was in the process of "greening" himself.  So I asked him, "Why are you doing this?"  And he responded simply, "Because why would I not do this."  Needless to say I was perplexed.  "Surely, its a political move, maybe environment?"  He should his head, "Why the environment?  Because im green?"  He laughed, "have you seen the environment lately, lots of more drab greys than greens."

It was a few days later when I saw him again, in a nicely pressed suit.  His hands and his toes were green, and his entire face.  I approached him and re-introduced myself.  He knew not who I was or why I chose to greet him.  "Perhaps you were someone I met in my other life, it's all a blur," he said, "during my greening process I do not remember a thing."  So I tried to remind him that I was the one who inquired if his green was a statement about our environment.  He shook his head displeased, and a look of disgust spread on his face, "Environmentalist? Me? Ha!"  He gestured to his whole self, "Do I look like I give to shits what happens to God's green earth?  It's not so green anyways, nowadays, anyhow, look-y here, greys, muted, bland, drab.  I'm just a cog in this machine."   "But why GREEN?!" I begged, "then if its not a statement, are you a Grinch?"  he didn't respond and pushed me aside.

I laid awake that night, dumbfounded by my own loss of comprehension, but my own laughable ability to understand this evergreen-ed bozo.  But I devised a plan, I painted myself orange and did it liberally from head to toe, around my ball sack, to my ass crack, a behind one and two ears.  And in this new disguise with a pair of pajama pants, and a tank top I strolled out to that usual spot.

Sure enough, there he was.  Green, but crying.  Some of the green gone under his ears where the tears had rubbed away the mask.  When he saw me approach he was shocked, and his sadness turned to fury.  He stuck a finger in my face, "Who the fuck do you think you are you son of a bitch.  And orange!?  You chose that ungodly color, you look like an oompah loompah you jerk!"  He pushed me into the street, and laid a blow across my jaw.  "You won't take this from me, you're a joke.  Let me be!."   With that he spit on me and made to turn.  And I could feel the fury building in me.  I rose to my feet as quickly as I could.  "Hey! you think you're the only one who can do something unique, I just wanted to know why you did it, I wanted an explanation."   This stopped him in his tracks and he turned over his shoulder, and quite frankly said, "I don't owe you a damned thing."