a Portrait

‘Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar…’ I smiled at the portrait on the wall and threw a butt into the ashtray. It was 4.12 pm. Mr.Brainwash was late.

‘It is just the doldrums, my dear… Your artistic flair thrives; you just have to sacrifice some habitual pleasures for the sake of it.’

I would spit in his face but my good education forbids my spitting on portraits, and this ugly daub takes advantage of this fact unscrupulously! Small, funny antics can fill life with wonder…
I was daydreaming about this impudent portrait gliding down to the courtyard and didn’t hear the door creak open.

‘Good afternoon, my dear! Oh… Did you smoke in here? I told you! Don’t do it!’

Wow… He was angry. His halo became dirty-brown with yellow clots. It was really nasty. Mr.Brainwash was yelling, when suddenly I understood that this would be my last seance with him. ‘You have to sacrifice some habitual pleasures for the sake of it…’ To hell with that! I don’t want to give up my pleasures!

The first bullet was for Mr.Brainwash. The second bullet was for his talkative portrait… Sometimes a gun is just a gun!

Do you remember who said that?

© All rights reserved 2014

My special thanks to Cyan Ryan
for the grammar corrections and improvements on this essay!

21 thoughts on “a Portrait

  1. Appreciate you checking out our blog, digging your own. This piece has still got the blood and guts sprayed on the wall. Real visceral shit. You’ve got the mind of an angel and the tongue of a sailor. Keep it up, great stuff.

    Liked by 2 people

Unbolt your Comment!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.