When you pull onto your block you’ll see two police cars waiting outside your house. Your front door will be open and Kevin, your next-door neighbor, will be standing on your lawn, pointing at your house, irate.
Looks like they found your papier-mâché sculptures of the family next door.
Drive slow and savor these final few seconds of peace before you have to get out of your car and begin trying to explain yourself. You’ll have to detail to them who you were when you lived in Russia, how you were celebrated for your shocking papier-mâché representations of the life you and your fellow countrymen were living, how it became a common occurrence to spot yourself on the cover of a magazine for an interview you would have forgotten having given.
But after moving to America, you found yourself completely uninspired. Nothing about the suburban landscapes in which you passed your days seemed worthy of your artistic interpretation. Until Kevin and Mary and Lewis, Pamela and little Georgette Tohlmacher. moved in next door. Suddenly you couldn’t sculpt quickly enough. That family demanded your eye, your passion, and your skill. That family has inspired you to stay awake for 72 hours at a time, panicked that you might die or the world might end before you manage to channel your vision of the Tohlmacher family’s essence onto the chicken wire.
You know it will be difficult to explain to a man just trying to give his wife and children a good life why the house next door to his is filled to a room with dozens of sculptures of his flesh and blood. Especially difficult to explain will be the nudes. Though you used as your source only your imagination (except for the weekends in the summer when Kevin mowed his lawn shirtless), you are certain they won’t be very appreciative of the artist’s need to let his muse guide him where it will.
You’re at the house now. Time to get out of your car and make an appearance at your latest exhibition.
Happy Looks Like They Found Your Papier-Mâché Sculptures Of The Family Next Door Day!
