MADNESS...Is This

Bones' Revenge

In high school it was his favorite subject, during college and longer after graduation he continued to obsessively study it. He spent long hours daydreaming about what it must feel like to have created it. He found himself often envying God, being the Creator of all things,

“He knows what it feels like to gaze upon it at the moment of its existence and at the very second of its demise…” he beamed with wide eyes of wonderment.

His mind often insisted that God was flawed in his design because God had intentionally crafted His design so that there was no way to preserve it, depriving all generations to come of its beauty for all eternity,

“What an improper display of artistry for such a Creation being…” he blabbed out loud, taking a big gulp from his soda bottle.

To protect it when it was beaming with a spark, it was encased in a protective covering that concealed its real beauty that lay just beneath the surface,

“What a shame to keep such magnificence hidden from the world…” aloud as if irritated by the observation, the rest of the patrons now staring at him wondering why he seems to be arguing aloud with himself.

When the spark had gone dim, the covering began to shrink and wrinkle and that which was intentionally hidden underneath it began to bath in its own juices with a ghastly aroma just before drying out to wither away along with the covering, rendering the entire work of art an eyesore of a wasted masterpiece,

“Ugh…” he cringed.

Since the red and pink meaty gristly portion was too fluid to be preserved, his mind found another way around it by becoming fascinated with the framework that supported it; it seemed reasonable that for the moment the ivory colored frame work remained intact for all eternity,

“It is possible to cut, saw, sand, plaster, mold, paint, paste, and wire it into masterpieces worthy of museum status and public admiration…” theorizing aloud while gobbling up the last bite of the sandwich he was eating for lunch as the other patrons whispered among themselves how they thought he wasn’t all there.

Kirby then got up from the table, threw the last of his lunch scrapings and soda bottle in the trash can, and then left the small mom and pop eatery to walk back to work just a few blocks over. It was a nice day as far as he was concerned. The sun was bright but not too hot and there was no sign of rain as there wasn’t a cloud in the sky,

“Ah…what a nice day to be at work…” as he rounded the corner gazing upon the old weather-worn red brick building he was headed to.

Aside from daydreaming about the flaws of God, his other passion was the work he did for a living. His obsessive nature with reference to beauty and perfection molded him into the modestly sought after beautician, makeup artist, and wardrobe specialist he had become. Although not generous for what he felt he deserved, It earned him a decent living given the small town he was living in. His clients came from all walks of life, even the lowliest of them who managed to afford his services was a treasure to him.

He would spend hours with each client, obsessively molding them into a work of perfectionism. His clients didn’t mind the long hours, so long as they were gorgeous when he was done they could have cared less. Which was a good thing, If they were not perfect in his eyes they were not leaving as far as he was concerned. It was his reputation that would be tarnished if his work didn’t have a “WOW” factor about it. He often said to them while he was working on them,

“You cant rush beauty and perfectionism it takes time…” he insisted.

The friends and families of his clients were always beyond pleased when they saw his work showcased by their loved ones. Some of them were so impressed upon seeing the fruits of his labor that they signed up on his waiting lists.