“Hey, take a look at this picture. What would you say it is?” Zola asked.
Shawn looked closely. “A lorry.”
“No, it’s a truck.”
“Same thing,” Shawn said.
“Maybe to you Brits,” Zola swatted his arm. “Okay, it’s a lorry. Fine. But what colour do you think it is?”
Shawn looked at the picture again. “I’d say red.”
Zola looked at the picture herself. “Really? Because I think it look yellow.”
“Nope, definitely red,” Shawn said.
“If you’re colourblind. It’s clearly yellow!”
“If I was colour blind, it’d be grey to me. Depending on the type of colourblindness, anyway. If I was red-green colourblind, though, it’d be grey, because that’s a red lorry.”
“Alright, impartial judge. Sharleen?” Zola handed the picture over.
Sharleen glanced at the picture with indifference. “Red lorry, yellow lorry, what’s the difference?”
“Sharleen, this is very important, please decide who’s right and who’s stupid.”
Sharleen set the picture down. “If it’s a matter of right or stupid, then you both lose.”
Zola turned back to Shawn, and the two continued arguing over the colour while Sharleen picked up the newspaper and read.