Unfiltered Story #251272

[Suggested titles: “Wrong Kind of ‘Die'” or “Hair to Die For.”]
(My father is an avid hunter, and he always takes home and processes whatever waterfowl he gets. This fact is well known throughout our family, though my mom’s brother is not particularly fond of guns and hunting. One day he’s visiting, when he and my mom end up in the laundry room for some reason. We have a large, old utility basin in there; which my mom and I both often use to give ourselves home hair-coloring treatments. My uncle notices a vibrant ring of red stains around the bottom of the basin, and his eyes grow wide).
Uncle: (In a low whisper.) “Is that… blood?!”
Mom: (Nearly losing it.) “No, that would be [daughter’s] hair dye.”
(Though my favorite dye is red, it’s hardly the same color as blood! I wouldn’t find it so amusing except Uncle saw and even commented on my hair when he first came inside- and it was, indeed, the same color as the old sink!).