VII : Art

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"We don't make mistakes, just happy little accidents" - Bob Ross


"Monsieur Louis?" The lanky man peeped in.

The artist's jaw ticked as he controlled his anger and turned to the door.

"What is it, Jeremy?"

"Mr. Robert had called. He says he needs his painting by this weekend."

Louis growled out. "Tell him I'm working on it at the moment and I will have it delivered in a fortnight!"

"Okay sir!"

With that, the artist was left alone, staring at the untouched, spotless canvas.

He turned to the freshly opened pack of paints and mumbled to himself.

"Is it floral, today? Or black and white? Or scenic?"

He sighed and picked up the white paint, unscrewing the cap and pressing a line onto the palette.

Just as he was about to dip the brush into the paint, loud noises interrupted him.

"Jeremy!" He yelled and the petite man peeped in. He was looking tired.

"Yes, sir?"

"What's the ruckus about?"

"It's the paparazzi, monsieur." He responded. "They want to know about your latest idea."

"Well, tell them to shut up so I can think!"

"Y-yes sir. Right away." The poor man stuttered and went away.

Louis clenched and unclenched his fist, trying to calm himself down. He sighed and got up, walking to the window. He fiddled with his mustache as he gazed out at the beautiful city.

"Oh.. what a beau_" He was interrupted as a slimy substance landed on the shining glass window, spreading a look of disgrace on his features.

He looked closely at it and then yelled, clearly horrified, "JEREMY! How many times have I told you to clear the bird's nest!"

The man popped up again. "I'm sorry sir. Its just that the bird recently laid her_"

"I DON'T CARE! Just _ just clean this for god's sake!" He gagged and moved away.

He walked to the washroom to clean his hands which, according to him, had been dirtied. However, as he turned the tap on, nothing came out.

"Jeremy, why isn't the tap running?"

"I apologoize, sir. But there is a problem with the pipeline."

"When did I ask you to get it fixed?" He gritted his teeth.

The man gulped. "Yesterday."

"Then why is it still not working?"

"Well, its been really busy for them. They said they'll fix it by tomorrow for sure.

"Well, grace my day!"

After having used a dozen of tissues, and with a newfound spirit, Louis sat on his comfortable chair and continued his thinking.

However, not a moment after he painted a streak on the canvas that his assistant peeped in again.

"What is it now?" He asked, clearly frustrated.

"Would you like some chamomile tea, sir?"

"No, thank you."

"What about some cake?"

"No, I'm good."

"But you didn't have lunch."

"It's okay. I'm not hungry."

"Are you sure?"

'YES I'M SURE!" He yelled.

"W-well, Mr. Robert came to meet you." Jeremy informed him. "He said you either give him his painting this weekend or give his money back."

That was it.

Louis screamed, shaking with anger and clutched all the tubes in his hands. He then proceeded to press them all on the canvas and then threw the empty tubes aside.

He picked the canvas and smashed it on the floor, jumping and stomping his feet on it.

"Here, take this." He yelled. "And this."

Jeremy was shook and watched in horror as his boss took his frustration out on the poor canvas.

Hearing the noise, the said Mr. Roberts rushed in.

Seeing him, Louis froze. Then, reddening in embarrassment, he slowly moved away and proceeded to hide his face in his hands.

Waiting to hear the dreaded words, he prepared himself. However, what he heard next left him speechless.


"This is art! This is simply beautiful!" Robert picked the painting, of mixed colors and prints of his designer shoes. "I will place this in the very front of my exhibition!"

He rapidly shook the artist's hands and ran out with the canvas clutched in his hands.

"This is legendary!" He screamed in the hallways of the elegant bungalow.

Louis and Jeremy shared a look and the assistant ever so slowly creeped out, leaving a very dazed artist staring into space.


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This is the 7th story! Hope you're enjoying it. Please do vote and comment! 


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