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Cotton Candy, Part Two
Aug. 5th, 2005 04:26 pm"And this," said the general as he opened the door and turned on the lights, "is our arsenal."
The room was huge and biege, with high ceilings, and row upon row of iron weapon racks. From the racks hung thousands of paintings of Abraham Lincoln. Crude watercolors and rich oil paintings, abstracts and photorealistic, contemporary and modern, but all the same size. They were lined up on the racks like soldiers.
"Yep," said the general proudly, "We're fighting the kind of war that can only be won with paintings of Lincoln."
"Um, I don't understand, sir,"
"Of course you don't," said the general, "and that's why you're fired."
The room was huge and biege, with high ceilings, and row upon row of iron weapon racks. From the racks hung thousands of paintings of Abraham Lincoln. Crude watercolors and rich oil paintings, abstracts and photorealistic, contemporary and modern, but all the same size. They were lined up on the racks like soldiers.
"Yep," said the general proudly, "We're fighting the kind of war that can only be won with paintings of Lincoln."
"Um, I don't understand, sir,"
"Of course you don't," said the general, "and that's why you're fired."
