Happiness & Homicide: The Painting

Nick comes back into the kitchen. “Why does it feel so good to take a shit?” “Are you looking for a real answer here or….?” “What? I was talking out loud to myself.” “Well, I’ll answer your question anyway. Its because the shit is pressing on your vagus nerve when you’re shitting. The vagus is connected to the brainstem and the pressure on it slows the blood flow and heart rate and when it’s released the rate of blood flow returns to normal, creating a rush of blood to the brain.  It creates a sense of euphoria, kinda like auto-erotic asphyxiation.” Nick stares at me. I fold the paper over and set it down. “I don’t even want to know how or why you know this.” I shrug. “It’s just what I do.” “Speaking of ‘what you do’ are you aware that one of your tenants has a complaint?” I get up and pour myself another cup of coffee. “It better not be who I think it is.” “Who do you think it is?” “That same asshole who insulted my art in the lobby?” “Wil, come on. That painting is horrific. I still don’t know why you’d paint Bob Barker beheading Rosie O’Donnell in the first place.” “Well wishes.”  “That’s honestly one of the most disturbing images I’ve ever seen painted.” He takes a cup of coffee.  He hasn’t been in my studio lately then. 

My mind wanders to the lovely creations I’ve got drying in the studio. Maybe I should paint today. “Wil?” I return to my seat at the table. “What?” “What do you mean, ‘what’? You have to deal with this problem, it’s just not going to go away.” I snort. Oh, it can go away alright. This is the third complaint from this dick yanker. Third strike and you’re out, but killing someone in my building? That’s a no-no. That would be too much heat on me. The police will want answers and will bring the heat. “I’m going to paint for a while and think about what I’m going to do with him.”  Nick’s face falls in disbelief. “You are almost unbelievable. I don’t even know how I’m surprised by you anymore. You need to have an answer by this evening our you’re gonna be in trouble bub!” I wave my hand. I really could care less. I’m not removing the painting. It’s a classic. Maybe I could keep it up citing that its freedom of political expression. The media pigs in this country would eat that shit up if I was dragged to court over this. Gotta love a system that's a complete farce.

….

I emerge from the studio a few hours later with paint all over my arms and t-shirt. I walk into the lounge where Nick is sitting with a cup of tea writing out cheques. “I’ve done it!” Nick looks over at me. “I should say you have, you’re covered in paint. What were you doing in there?” “Creating art!” “I hope you mean actual art and that this is not some twisted euphemism for masturbating.” “Well, as much as I love saying hi to my monster, what wasn’t on the agenda for today, tonight, probably, but I decided to take your advice.” “Hold that thought.” Nick reaches for the remote. “What the hell are you doing? We’re talking here.” Nick turns on the telly. “Oh, I’m just going to check the news to see if Hell has frozen over. You’ve listened to advice I’ve given you.” I smack him upside the head with the remote and turn off the telly. “Keep it up! I came up with a solution to the guy.” “Which bloke? You have confrontations with almost everyone who comes in contact with you.” “Be that as it may, I mean the one in our building.” “So, again, I ask you which bloke?” I narrow my eyes at him. “Oh! The complainer!” I nod. “Do you want to see what I’ve come up with?” “I don’t want to be an accessory to murder and I really don’t want to be called to testify against you.” Oh if he only knew. I smirk at him. “I think you’re gonna want to see this masterpiece.” “Oh, you were painting something?” “I said that was going to. Do you have fuckin dementia already?” “No, I mean I thought you weren’t going to take the painting down.” I take out my cigarettes and light one. “Sometimes compromise is a beautiful thing. “Nick snorts. “I live to see the day.” I smack him. “Let’s go, I want you to see this gem.” 

Nick follows me down the hall and into the studio. “Be careful, it’s still bit wet and I don’t want you fucking it up.” “I will be.” I turn the easel around and Nick gasps. “Great isn’t it?” I beam with pride. “Wil, what the fuck am I looking at here?” “What do you mean? Can’t you see it? You’ve always raved about my artistic abilities.” “There’s no denying you’re a talented artist but why would you paint this?” I blow a cloud of smoke at him. “Why wouldn’t I paint something like this?” Nick struggles to find to words. “Because it’s, it’s-“ “Beautiful?” I suggest, exhaling smoking. “It’s something else!” “I can’t wait to frame this and put it up. Nick turns to me his face a pale shade of grey. “THIS IS YOUR REPLACEMENT?! THIS IS YOUR SUGGESTION OF COMPROMISE?!!” I nod and put my cigarette out. “What’s wrong with it?” Nick turns to me, his ears bright red with frustration. “It’s a painting of you buttfucking Stevie Nicks in some kind of outdoor scene!” “That’s not what that is at all!” “Oh, do tell what it is if it’s not fucking that!” “I’m doing her doggy style and that’s totally different.”  “I see no difference!” I put my hand on his shoulder and shake my head.

“Nickie, Nickie, Nickie. There’s a big difference. Anal and doggy aren’t the same at all. If you think that, well then that’s one of your many problems in the bedroom. You see, doggy is you mount her from behind and stick your cock in her pussy from the back, you know? Just like the dogs do.” “And how do you know-all this?” “Please Nick, I’m almost 30 and I have Animal Planet on the telly.” “That’s what you do all day? Watch dogs have sex with each other?” “Not just dogs. There’s lots of other animals.” “You’re a sick motherfucker.” “I’m not the one filming it and showing it on telly, Nick.””Well, you got me there, but why the hell were you watching it?” “Brought a bird back here and she was into it. Put her in the mood. I just found it interesting how they got the camera up in those areas, you know?” Nick looks at me in disbelief. “When was this?” “You went to visit your mum. Anyway, back to the painting. You like the background? It’s the Garden of Eden.” “I thought you didn’t believe in God.” “I don’t, but the arsehole making the complaints is one of those bible salesmen. I don’t know what flavour Christian he is, but its bound to set his shorts ablaze. Best of all, if he takes this to court, he can’t prove that its the Garden of Eden and trampling on his religious beliefs.” “You really are the most corrupt piece of shit I’ve ever met.” “Cheers, Nick.”