Working from an upstairs ladder to scrape old paint from an upstairs window, some old flakes fell, narrowly missing his partner and the door he was painting.
Paul glanced down. “The customer was really fussy, Vinny. He wanted a deeper crimson red for the front door.”
“I’m doing my best, Paul!”
Seconds later, Paul dropped his razor-sharp knife. “Wow,” he said, “that must have been close! Sorry.” Then he saw a detached ear on the ground in what appeared to be a puddle of red paint.
“Hey, Vinny. That colour looks perfect!”