Epilog
Epilog - Art for the sake of art.
Bill walked downstairs in his exercise clothes. He was ready to get in better shape; for the first time in his life, he was free for his true purpose: art for the sake of art. Or at least, he wasn’t getting paid to write SQL; therefore, he replaced bullshit with nonsense and felt better somehow.
He ambled down to his first masterpiece and tried to take it all in. The artist was a 16-year-old insane maltese-shittzu mix bitch. She was singly named, like Cher but hairy like a mop, Dusti.
This was Bill’s father’s dog and he had no idea when he took the dog in of its artistic sensibilities. “Genius lies in the details but art lives in your heart,” Dusti would say between bites of kibble.
Bill had wondered why Dusti had avoided the red pieces of her kibble and bits, but now seeing her work, he could appreciate her vision.
“Is this Jackson or his wife that you’re reaching for, Dusti?” said Bill to a brown-tinted lupine visionary.
“Those hacks? No, de Kooning, if he knew what suffering meant as a bitch or maybe Still. I’m not sure. The hair is my own touch,” said the canine as it continued to work on the piece.
“Well, art is fleeting, but I’d like to commemorate your work with an interpretive dance? Do you mind?” said Bill while just breathing in the aroma of very brown art.
“Of course, Bill. I appreciate the use of the space for my workshopping. You have been great for the past 700 times and I can only hope for 7,000 more,” said the artist to the man.
Bill smiled at the dog and then dropped several wet Swedish washcloths over the work. He offered, “Mondrian?”
Dusti chortled, “Hah. I do not believe Piet ever ate kibble and bits.”
Bill let the dampness seep in and started to stretch. “This really is very impressive. How did you manage to work underneath the actual legs of the table? I see brown underneath the feet?”
“The master needs to keep some of her own bitchy secrets; don’t you think, Bill?” said the dog.
Bill agreed and pulled up the washcloths. The water was well penetrated into the thickly applied pigment. “Do you use a palette knife or a brush for this texture?”
“I see you haven’t … seen my tail?” said Dusti as she displayed the brown brush she’d been using with a rightward spin.
“Oh, your tail? That’s very convenient as it’s hard to drop! Hahaha!” said Bill with smiling eyes.
Bill sprayed the enzymatic cleaner over the work and asked Siri to play background music for his dance.
He forgot his bowler hat, but he had a mop and a chair. The music started. It was, of course, EDM:
You want what? You want me
Bill’s heels took him to the left and the mop hit the beat back and forth.
Is that too sweet on your tongue?
T-T-T-A-S-T-E
Is-is-is what? You want me
The pigment was piled and fragrant. Bill did a rightward spin and came up with a scraper tool.
Is that too sweet— A-S-T-E
You want a T-A-S-T-E
Dusti joined in and did her rightward spin!
You want a T— You want a T—
You want a T— You want a T—
You want a T— You want a T—
You want a T— You want a T—
Bill was scraping up the work into a bucket; the music was ready to drop at any moment for the finale.
You want a T-A-S-T-E
T-T-T-T-A-S-T-E, is that too sweet—
You want a T-A-S-T-E
T-T-T-T-A-S-T-E
Bill and Dusti mopped the floor clean together with her on the end of a stick!
Red light, green light, go right now
Double rights were executed with panache!
I’m on the floor, where you at? Where you at?
Left, right, left, right, go, make it clap
Red light, green light, go right now
Bill spun left but Dusti kept it clean and went right!
The music stopped and Dusti was very clean. The floor was spotless and the boy and the dog sat with what they learned from art today.
“That was great, Bill. I’m not sure I learned anything at all. This was still worth doing, however,” said the fuzzy artist.
“No shit, Dusti,” said Bill, and he looked forward to seeing a new work in the morning.