194 - Home Sweet Home


Painting the broken-down nightclub patio you call home isn't going as well as you'd hoped.

"This rust-and-water paint isn't doing the job, Columbus," you tell your roommate. "Your taste in paint is shit, man."

Columbus is passed out drunk on a collection of couch cushions and plastic bags. A loud fart that sends a ripple through his newspaper blanket is his only response to your insult.

"What this paint needs... is a personal touch!" you declare. You take off your pants and remove your underwear, then drop the boxers nonchalantly into the paint tray. You dip your brush into the rust-and-water-and-underwear mixture in the tray, then wipe the wet brush on the fence lining the patio.

Water carrying rust flakes and (you suspect) just a little bit of your butt rolls down the fence and pools at the bottom.  "Perfect," you say, admiring your artful ingenuity.

You observe Columbus wake up and immediately begin lighting his crack pipe. Turning back to the fence, you smile in the coziness of the moment. This place will feel like home in no time.