Murder (Or An Art Attack), Part 3

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The Script For Today's Comic!

Murder (Or An Art Attack), Part 3

(Six panels.)

SCENE:
Tom is wandering through the art rooms, Izzy in tow, looking around at various crappy artwork (donít do sheep, we donít want to get sued) in horror. The background, hopefully, is filled with utter shit.

TOM: What the hell is that? Or that? Christ, I could crap better artwork than this!

(He approaches artist dude, who is parodied sufficiently to avoid conflict. I imagine him pudgy, with bad black wiry hair, Napoleon Dynamite-style. The picture stands between them, a vertical streak of wretchedness. Tom points him out of the crowd, as if calling him down to the stage.)

TOM: You! Warhol lite! Whatís this supposed to be?

WARHOL LITE (serenely, unruffled by Tomís brusque nature): I call it, ďA Thousand Nights Of Loneliness.Ē

WARHOL LIGHT (perhaps a close-up of him alone, in rapture, explaining as if there was nothing unusual about this at all): Every night when I could not procure a companion, I decided to create artwork.

WARHOL LIGHT: Under the lightless sky, I would roll my todger in paint and rub it upon the canvas until I exploded in despair.

WARHOL LIGHT (touching the frame fondly, with reminiscent love, the creepier the better): This, I did every night for almost three years. This is Night #657 Ė the night that HBO tormented me with Real Sex Stories.

(A full-panel, but not quite a pause.)

TOM (furious, hands open in the way that Karla is in todayís panel): I could ejaculate better art than this!

(NOTE: I still think this is hysterical)

Roni Says:

Based on actual events.*

*Some details altered to protect the ridiculous.

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