Tuesday, August 17, 2010


There's a bum that lives in our neighborhood in Queens. He used to beg for change, but started painting one day. He went to a recycle place and collected old paint cans. Most of them still have a little paint left in them, but God knows where he got the brush.

He started painting on whatever garbage he could find - cardboard, paper, whatever provided a flat surface. He was really good, too. It was weird. He did landscapes, paintings of the places in the neighborhood, dogs, some cool-looking fantasy stuff...

This guy was the damn Michelangelo of bums. He'd sell them for fifty cents or a buck, then used the money to buy some booze and drink himself into a coma. He was a typical artist.

He eventually started offering to do portraits. No one liked them and I don't know why. I talked to a neighbor about it and they didn't really seem comfortable talking about it at all. She had one done by him and said it disgusted her and didn't look a thing like her.

I asked to see it. It was beautiful. It was amazingly lifelike and I told her as much. She responded by slapping me pretty hard and telling me to get the fuck out of her house. She stopped talking to me after that.

Nevertheless, I was so impressed that I asked the bum to do one of me. He said it would be two bucks and I paid him in advance. He said it would be done the next day. I passed his usual spot the next day, anxious to see it, but he wans't there.

I was pissed for a moment and thought he ripped me off until I noticed down the side of the building was my portrait, covered, with my name and a note on it. The note said, simply, "Good luck."

I uncovered the painting and was horrified. I looked distorted, misshapen...sickly twisted in ways that made my eyes hurt. I was clearly dying in the portrait, if not already dead. Bugs and crows were feeding on me.

I hadn't noticed one of the other neighbors behind me until he said, "Hey, looks good. I ought to get one too."

He said it as he was passing and continued to walk on, but not before I got a glimpse of him. He was twisted and misshapen, walking with a distorted gait. Crows and bugs trailed him, feeding from him. I looked around.

Everyone and everything looked the way I did in the painting now. Everything I see makes my eyes water. Everything is horrible and ugly...and everyone tells me how beautiful my portrait is. No matter what I do, I can't convince them that they shouldn't get one themselves.


  1. Why are there bricks in my pants?

  2. Wow! Now... That was weird. Kill that bum!

  3. Wait so why didn't the girl see the main guy as ugly and distorted?

  4. She did..that's why she told him to get out.

  5. No, she told him to get out because he complimented her painting, which was mis-shapen and distorted in her eyes.


  7. Damn, if this is true that's pretty fucked up.

  8. that did not rely make sense to me

  9. am I supposed to draw the penis?