We owe it all to flamingos

In the begining of sighs, long before the begining of lies, two of the primordial six were having an aggitated talk about whether flamingos should be pink or bright violet. The Brunette primordial argued that pink would be a much more romantic color, whilst the Redhead one insisted it would be much too mushy. Redhead primordial tried to defend her violet choice by making an argument on how the light would reflect on a much more efficient way, but Brunette kept repeating pink would make them look much more exotic.

- Efficiency! -stressed Redhead.
- Exotism! -harped on Brunette.

Redhead tried to explain once again her views, but her speaker had entered a loop. Brunette's mouth kept opening and closing in the exact same fashion over and over, the exact same sounds coming out of it:

- Exotism! Exotism! Exotism! Exotism!

Redhead was going insane. Her growing anger was turning her face so red as to match her hair shade. Her teeth were clenching, fists pressed together so tightly they made her whole body vibrate. If she could just force her to stop, shut her up. Make her close that irritantingly annoying little mouth of hers.

Her rage blinded her and wouldn't let her think any longer: she pursed her lips together and pressed them against Brunette's.

It worked! No more drilling words were coming out of Brunette's mouth. Redhead could hear her own thoughts again. She felt so happy and relieved she didn't even care to part her own mouth from her fellow primordial's. But as the anger was draining out of her, the pressing and the pressure of her lips relaxed. As she slowly became aware of how pleasant it felt, her eyes closed.

And that's how the kiss was invented. The first kiss took Brunette completely by surprise, but luckily for Redhead, it won the argument for her.

Flamingos are bright violet, right?