the things i'd let this man do to me wow

Art Should Reflect Your Soul 🖌
  • Curator: *awoken by rapid knocking at the door to her gallery*
  • Old Man: *continues to desperately knock at the door, carrying a large covered painting*
  • Curator: *yawns* We're closed. What is it?
  • Old Man: Is the gallery with the hole?
  • Curator: Yes.
  • Old Man: Thank god, I'm in desperate need of it.
  • Curator: Did you not hear me say that we're closed?
  • Old Man: It is of great importance!
  • Curator: Important enough to wake me up in the middle of the night?
  • Old Man: It is a matter of life and death!
  • Curator: *sighs* Come in.
  • Curator: *leads old man the the hole room* So, what do you need the hole for?
  • Old Man: *uncovers his the painting revealing it to be a stunning portrait of a young man*
  • Curator: Goodness, it's beautiful! Did you paint it yourself?
  • Old Man: Heavens no!
  • Curator: Well, who painted it? Whoever did is a master! An absolute genius!
  • Old Man: I've no idea. It appeared at my doorstep one day and it has been ruining my life since. You wouldn't believe it, but I'm only 27. It's draining my youth away.
  • Curator: Sounds far-fetched.
  • Old Man: Not as far-fetched as a hole that permanently destroys all forms of art! That's why I'm here. I can't get rid of this painting. I've thrown it away, shredded it to pieces, burned it to ash, and locked it in a container and shipped it to remote regions at great expense. No matter what I do it comes back to me. Your art hole is my last chance of escape. Please, let me toss it in.
  • Curator: Hmm, I don't know.
  • Old Man: Why not? Do you want money? I'm very rich. I'm willing to pay whatever you want to let me get rid of this... thing.
  • Curator: No, no, it's not that. It's that the hole is already paranormal. Much like your painting, the hole just appeared in my gallery one day. It sucked up all of the art, and ruined my livelihood. If it wasn't for the novelty of the thing, I doubt I'd be making any money. I can't even hang a child's scribble in here without it disappearing. I figure if what you're saying is really true, tossing your painting into the hole could have some sort of bad reaction.
  • Old Man: You've no way of knowing that.
  • Curator: True, I don't.
  • Old Man: Good, then you've no reason not to let me toss the painting in.
  • Curator: I don't like taking risks. Your painting is very beautiful. You should show it to more people or sell it for a nice sum of money. Live out the rest of your days in luxury.
  • Old Man: Have you not been listening to me? I'm rich! I've no need for luxury! I want to live! Are you telling me to just sit around wait for this thing to kill me!?
  • Curator: No, you're misunderstanding me. I-
  • Old Man: *smashes painting over the curator's head and pushes her into the hole* It... It's gone. But, I feel no better.
  • *a hand grabs the edge of the hole*
  • Young Man: *climbs from out of the hole*
  • Young Man: *dusts himself off* Wow, I thought I'd never get out of that thing.
  • Young Man: *spots the old man* Hey there, gramps.
  • Old Man: *backs up against the wall* This is impossible.
  • Young Man: Thanks for letting me out of that painting. Oh, and no hard feelings about what I'm about to do. *places hand on old man's forehead*
  • Old Man: *body rapidly ages and deteriorates into a dried husk of a corpse*
  • Young Man: *adjusts suit collar* Feels good..
  • Young Man: *confidently strides out of the gallery*
  • Curator: *climbs out of hole* There's just a bunch of muck down there. Gross.
  • Curator: *spots the old man's dusty corpse* Oh my god! It's hit me. If this place can no longer be an art gallery, I'll make it an archaeological museum! Genius! I'm a genius!!
  • *months later*
  • Old Man's Corpse: *propped up in front the museum with a sign that says "Opening July 13th"*