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To R. C. Edrington's next pieceDumbass Artist your typical cliched wanna-be hip artist draped in black always hung outside the right circles sipped wine from styrofoam cups at all the gallery openings downtown he chain smoked my cigarettes gave up discussing art when I told him I just come to get laid and none of these fucks will ever paint their way out of a bad marriage told me when he checked out he had a 2' x 4' white gesso primed canvas to lean like an emergency room stretcher against the shower stall had the right distance marked off so when he pulled the trigger only his blood and brains would hit the canvas and not the shotgun blast told me I could sell his suicide to any gallery that now rejected him if I promised to drink a toast to his memory the night they found the dumbass OD'd on Mexican Tar in the alley behind the Buffet I honestly tried to feign disappointment
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