Friday, October 31, 2008
Presently, Mr. Cross sat across the artist, who was seated furtively with a furtive look playing across his features. In time, Mr. Cross would look at the art placed adjacent to his abattoir. Rising with a cross expression playing across his features, Mr. Cross crossed the room. Presently, he came to the abattoir, which was outside the room, adjacent to the building containing the room containing the furtive artist.
Presently Mr. Cross returned to the artist, with the express purpose of discussing the art. A clandestine smile playing across his cross features, Mr. Cross allowed himself a laugh. Placing the art adjacent to the artist, he exclaimed, laughing, "It's really all just the same thing again and again, is it not? You love your undressed women but I exclaim your art shows precious little interest in what they might say!"
The artist mumbled furtively and furiously, in a barely audible monotone. "I wouldn't be drawing if it wasn't for women, many of the artists I respect are women" he was saying, as Mr. Cross' expression became bemused. Presently, in the course of talking the artist remembered an incident earlier in the day, in which the artist had entered the same compartment of a revolving door as a woman, not noticing until the revolving door began to revolve, his feet banging against the compartment door as the compartment revolved. His face flushed with embarrassment and he began to shake.
He rushed out, feeling he might relieve himself on the spot, and came to the abattoir, where he was overcome with an urge to throw himself among the sheep. But he was overcome with fear when a malfunctioning machine malfunctioned furiously and the ground began to shake. He ran back to the room and gathered his art and rushed out furtively, intent on finishing the lace details of a woman's brassier he was presently in the course of drawing. Watching him leave, Mr. Cross allowed himself a laugh, wiped the blood on his smock and returned to the abattoir, where a sheep was stuck in one of the machines, spraying blood about the abattoir furiously.