"The pink thing," he called back from the dark.

My friend, that pink thing sticking up was an arm.

But the bright pink things did hide my arms.

Better call someone quick before the pink things crawl on my face.

It scooped the pink thing in and was gone.

I didn't like Zulma much, but the pink thing seemed to be a good deal less friendly.

I twisted around enough to see that the pink thing, or its buddies, had also been coming in from the back door.

His hand stood before him, a huge pink thing.

"I like that pink thing and your hair hanging loose."

What about those little pink things on the hedge?