Creativity's Farewell to Humanity
A Short-Short which is the introduction to a series novel of short-shorts about becoming artiste.
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A man found himself in jail for being born. Chained up to the stone wall (as is customary in medieval times) is a wild baboon. Across from him, hanging from the wall, is an old man that looks like Jesus Christ in a way. In the corner is a midget with a spinning wheel. Topless waitresses are serving champagne. He can’t stand how hard it is to drink the sweet fluid with old cast-iron cuffs on, but it dribbles all over his chin regardless. There’s nothing he can do about it. The ceiling is made of a checker-board-like pattern of TVs playing reruns of old and new sitcoms. Reality TV and the news. Outside the cell window he can see a giant green hill with a weeping willow tree living out its life on the horizon. The sun is out with mountains of clouds and it looks like the perfect day, if those are even possible on planet Earth. He grunts at his situation, and when he is almost reconciled with the thought of accepting what he was born into, the king enters. Looking quite similar to the Burger King, the man almost half-anticipates an amusing commercial scene to play out. As all expectations set themselves up for crude realization, the king informs the man that he has to go now. His time is up. It is time to go. A confused smile grows on the man’s face, not sure exactly what this means, his time is up. Either way, he holds his hands out to be freed of the metal wrist wear and turns to express his farewell to the baboon, who returns this communication by jumping up and down until the chains interrupted its natural jumping height. The old hanging man whimpers a sigh of love, the kind endured after sharing the experience of human pain in the same cell as another man. The midget just keeps spinning its wheel, but the man gives him a thought of sympathy too. With one arm perched around the man’s shoulders the king explains how it is time for the man to finally live on his own. Civilization had had enough of him. It was time for him to be an artist. Slowing his steps after passing through the massive oak door decorated with every lock ever made, the man looks back at all he knows and wonders where he’s going. He’s going to miss this place.