I can’t stand the color pink,” Jessie scowled. “Who… I mean, what idiot, would have made plastic Flamingos, pink, for God’s sake? They should be black—all black, with tiny white eyes and dark gray beaks.” Jessie hated everything in this dilapidated west-side trailer park —the mobile homes, the pavement, the utility hook ups, the weary decorative flamingos, and, most of all, the residents. The w…