Tags: Mythbusters, art, humor
Image by Ali Goksel.com
"Hey, look," I said, waving the newspaper under my hubby's nose. "There's an art competition at a local gallery. Should we enter a photo?"
Corky Porky Pie barked his agreement, but Russ continued watching Mythbusters. What is it that's so interesting about that show? After all, how many times can a guy watch Adam Savage and Jamie Hyneman shoot chickens out of a cannon before figuring out that a frozen chicken can not fly under its own power?
I tried again in a dulcet tone, "HEY, CHICKEN BOY, DO YOU WANT TO ENTER THE ART SHOW?"
Oh, all right ... I'll admit it ... I hollered.
Apparently, my dulcet tone startled him. Russ jumped out of the chair like he'd been stung, and the Porky Pie ran around Russ's ankles, barking loud enough to pop balloons. Or at least ear drums.
I'd like to suggest that what followed happened in slow motion, but then Russ would probably submit the idea to Mythbusters so they could test the reality of slow motion by shooting chickens from a Howitzer. Which would probably only work with tiny, live chickens flying backwards as they're shot out of the cannon.
But, I digress. Unable to take a full step without killing the dog, Russ stumbled around, arms flailing, looking very much like ... dare I say it? ... a chicken with its head cut off. That is, until he finally managed to trip and land face down on the couch.
I raised my eyebrows. "So, did that little dance mean yes or no?"
"Brsghgtrxwvbpxuumph."
I reached over and patted Russ on the back. "Sorry, but I can't translate 'Brsghgtrxwvbpxuumph.' Maybe if you take your face out of the cushions it would help."
Russ raised his head, and for a minute I thought he might turn it completely around, like that chick (oh yes, another chicken reference; we are replete with them today) in The Exorcist. Instead, he blinked his eyes and replied, "I was asking which picture you wanted to enter."
The Porky Pie cocked his head and looked at Russ, then cocked it the other way and looked at me. Sometimes I think he's smarter than I give him credit.
I would've cocked my head in question, too, but didn't want to mimic the dog, so I scrunched my eyebrows instead. Something Corky Porky Pie is incapable of doing ... so far.
Giving it a significant pause, I said, "It is my considered opinion that we have a number of blue ribbon quality photos that are certain not to win. So let's find something strange, manipulate it in PhotoShop to make it stranger, and submit it."
Russ hefted himself off the couch and poked me lightly in the forehead with his finger. "You've heard of the movie, A Beautiful Mind? Well, you have a devious mind. Tell me, did I know that about you before we married?"
"Umm, I'm thinking not, but welcome to marital bliss, Chicken Boy."
For the next few minutes we discussed which strange photos we had that were suitable. We finally settled on one taken by Russ of an old guy in New Orleans, dressed in a woman's hat decorated with chicken feathers (well, okay, maybe it was plastic flowers), wearing lots of beads, a purple shirt with orange pants, and playing a ukelele-type instrument.
"He's considered to be local color in the French Quarter, plays the ukelele for money and is known all over the country. I paid him to let me take his picture." Russ's voice reflected pride in his artistic accomplishment.
I shook my head in disbelief. "Really? Local color? He looks more like a nut. Who wears beads and a flowered hat after Labor Day? I hope you didn't pay him much."
Turns out Russ didn't, but I'm not going to tell how much he paid because it might make him look cheep ... er ... cheap.
On the day of the deadline, we gathered two other unusual pictures, along with the one of the ukelele-man-who-thought-he-was-a-woman that I'd weirded up ("weirded up" ... is that a real phrase?) and submitted them.
Several weeks later, we received an invitation to attend an "Artist's Open House" to view the winning entries. We dressed in nice clothes, because the press was scheduled to attend.
When we arrived, imagine our surprise to find a bearded gallery curator wearing jungle shorts and sandals. I whispered to Russ, "I don't think I weirded that photo up enough."
To make a long story short, our ukelele-man-who-thought-he-was-a-woman won third place. We were tickled until we saw the first place photo.
Russ stared at it for a long time, while trying not to look like he was staring. "Wow, I didn't know you were allowed to enter naked people."
"Me either," I said. "And that photographer might have taken the grand prize, instead of just first place in photography, if he'd gone to the trouble to weird up that woman and give her three of something. After all, it worked for Picasso."
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[Note: Although I've posted humor articles here for quite some time for YourLDSNeighborhood.com, clicks on their newsletter indicate a demographic that's more interested in serious topics. For that reason, I'll no longer post humor articles for them here, and will post serious articles twice a month for them at my other blog, Cindy Beck: Meandering Thoughts. If you're interested, stop by there and click to follow through Google Friend Connect, or to follow by email. Thanks for reading my humor articles in the past!]
------ "It Ain't No Picasso" © C.L. (Cindy) Beck, 2011------
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