The chemotherapy came in colors straw yellow and a red somewhere between the flesh of a watermelon and a cherry but did not fume or smoke the way some of her own most dramatic poisons had.
Her little red wagon piled high with chunks of fatty flesh started fueling the money making juggernauts of her chosen doctors even before they took center stage.
He needs no caricaturist to make him look evil, though tinting his flesh (green on a recent cover of The Economist, red and yellow on the latest Newsweek) augments his scariness nicely.