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Hey
"Hey," he said in a voice he used to describe his war stories. "Where is the toilet?"
Joanne pointed to the back of the room, so off he went, tip toeing over tipped, plastic peacock sculptures. By the door stood a ceramic gnome with a toilet paper roll wedged violently over his painted blue hat, flaking considerably. The man stopped to look at the gnome's happy little face before smiling himself, pulling his fly open and strutting into the loo.
Joanne sat on her stool covered with paint from endless years of creativity. She looked ponderously at the full canvas in front of her, or rather, she looked at the winged rear, in mid flight, painted atop. It was a terrible piece and she knew it… but she asked anyway, not really believing her own, secret point of view.
"What do you think of my painting, John?"