Diggems Presents: Art Truly is subjective…

So I’m in line at Starbucks waiting for my latte when a little girl starts tugging on my pants leg. She has to be around 6 years old, and judging from the thick ring of booger crust surrounding her nose and mouth she isn’t a huge fan of public hygiene. Anyway, I look down and she tries to hand me something. It appears to be a piece of paper of some sort. I can’t really tell because it’s covered in a goo that I’m hoping isn’t some type of bodily excrement.

“Here”, she says. I just turn back to the Starbucks menu pretending that I didn’t just make eye contact with her. I feel her tapping on my leg again. “Here”, she insists. I hear a couple behind me give the typical “Awwwwhhh, isn’t that cute” sound. I turn around and give them the agreeable, “aren’t kids cute” smile and preceded to shake the little imp off of my leg.

Undeterred the little snot wagon pats me on the leg again. The hippie couple behind me decide to add their two cents yet again, “Aren’t you going to take her present?”. I sigh and respond irritably, “I’m not comfortable touching other people’s kids”. They reply, “Oh it’s ok, she’s ours we don’t mind”. I think to myself, “She’s yours? Well can’t you get your little crumb snatcher off my leg and learn how to control the little beast?” Instead I turn back to the child and say, “Ooooh, let’s see what you’ve got there”. I bend down to give the little heathen some eye to eye contact; she reeks of piss and cookies. I stick my hand out and she slips the piece of paper into my hand.

Inside is an illustration of some sort… Apparently she’s very fond of the colors black, brown and tan. Through this wannabe prodigal child’s garbled mess (at this point she is teetering more on the Rainman side) I am able to discern what looks like the scribbles of an autistic caveman.

The mother excitedly chimes in, “It’s a picture of us at the coffee house, and I think the man in the corner is YOU!” I look at the figure in the corner; it reminds me of a certain “fecal gem” I left in the toilet the morning after an all night romp of tacos, tequila, and lots of hot sauce. “Isn’t it GOOD!”, she exclaims. I give her the stupid grin again, “Quite…” The little girl taps me on the knee and opens her arms wide. The little troll wants a hug! “Mr. Murphy your latte is ready”. The angelic sound of the Starbucks girl swirls into my ears. I immediately rush to the counter. The soothing smell of coffee beans and steamed milk find a way to persuade my olfactory senses not to perform ritual seppuku…

Seppuku (切腹, Seppuku “stomach-cutting”) is a form of Japanese ritual suicide by disembowelment. (source wikipedia)


… Nothing screams thirst like the sight of old boogers and snot. I thank the little girl and her hippie parents and walk swiftly out of the door.

I get in my car and turn the ignition, but with my quick start out of the parking lot a little bit of my latte finds its way out of the cup and into my cup holder. Damn! I don’t have any napkins. Wait a minute! I pull the little girl’s illustrated Petri dish out of my pocket and sop up the spilled coffee. Thanks little buddy! With a quick flick the picture is tossed out of the open window like last night’s jerk-off rag. As I drive past the front of the Starbucks the “tree huggers” are just walking out. They wave as I pass. I swear on everything I love, the picture blows right by them! I honk the horn and wave back… Recycle that B***hes!



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