Well, around that time, near Christmas, on one of my manic, booze-induced art sprees, I painted gruesome pictures for everyone in the family, as well as for some others who I barely knew. At the time, I was so fucked up that to me, they appeared to be absolute genius. I even framed and wrapped the monsters, and when I handed them over to my lucky recipients, my face was a proud, beaming beacon of light (mixed with downers and uppers).
One particular drawing was supposed to be an utterly unique portrayal of a certain musician; however, I drew his mouth so close to the microphone, it looked like he was blowing....you get the drift. Deep, let me tell you.
A few months back, Mom whipped out one of my old paintings (yes, she had it in the basement). It was supposed to be a painting of her, but it sort of resembled a dead Gidget doll (the Sally Field version), and it was about at the five year old level, but it was much creepier than any kid could do.
In the family, I am now a supreme legend as the worst painter/drawer they have ever seen. I even tried taking classes, and after a while the teachers just shook their heads and left me alone. I heard things such as this:
"Lighten up, MacConnell."
and
"Hm, why don't you just go with that. I'll be back."
And he never came back.
Here is my one actual masterpiece:
Yes, that's right. This one is the best of the bunch, the cream of the crop. If anyone wants his/her portait done, I'm open for biz. I know one person that might jump at that chance. He's seen some of my award-winning, genius work.
C.A. MacConnell
