A few weeks ago, I risked life and limb to go landscape painting in the desert. And if you recall, I came across the skeletal remains of some unidentified animal. I shlepped the nasty thing home, found a black widow spider the size of a golf ball in it, cleaned the skull with bleach and left it to whiten up in the sun. This, all for the sake of an interesting vanitas still life painting.
When I boasted to Bill of my archaeological find, he immediately wanted to get in on the action, and asked if I could send him pictures of it so that he too could paint it. When I did not immediately comply because I simply got busy and forgot, I began getting sniveling whining emails from Bill. He implied we may not be friends much longer. He reminded me that he had once loaned me his turp to wash my brush in (though he complained I splashed his painting with all the sloshing I did). And lately, I have been getting these weird phone calls from some illegible mumbler with heavy breathing. Each time I say, “Bill is that you?”, and he just hangs up.
Okay, so here is the damn picture Bill. I don’t want to hear another word about it. Next time you want a skeleton go brave the desert yourself. PS – I have caller I.D.