In The Museum

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Morrill Hall, University of Nebraska State museum Lincoln

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morrill4Rena Easton now led me from the art department to Morrill Hall where once was housed the artwork belonging to the University of Nebraska. Rena pulled me upstairs to the second floor, then like a couple dancing – she released me with a flair onto the wood floor!

My beloved muse now began her dance. With her long cape flowing after her she came to stand before a painting on the wall that she appeared to be holding up with two hands for me to behold.

“This is one of my favorite works!” Rena declared, and then gave me the title of the painting, and the name of the artist! Then, with a skip and a twirl across the dance floor, she stood before another work.

“This is__ ___I like this work because of the ______!”

Rena now ran to the opposite wall, did a turn and framed her next choice. I am blown away! I am looking at the most beautiful woman in the world in a green velvet cape give me a tour of the artwork in her town. She has prepared this private showing, for me. There is no one in the gallery – but us! On Saturday morning in Lincoln, all good Cornhuskers are worhipping their beloved football team. The Artist and Muse have the whole place – to ourselves!

I can not begin to describe how honored I felt. This young seventeen year old, got it! Rena – got me, and now understood what I was about, what we were about since we made eye contact on Venice Beach.

“Who are you?”
“I am your beloved Muse.”
“Why have we come together?”
“We seek the Holy Grail.’

As I beheld this miraculous art lesson given by my Muse, I recalled the last picture we made together. I was glaring at Rena in the Greyhound bus depot in Winnemucca as she sat next to James, who told me Rena did not want to talk to me, because she was afraid of me.

“Yeah! Right! Like I was not afraid she would leave me for another man – from the day we met!”

I dared anyone to prevent me from looking at this beautiful young woman, now, like most men have – with lust in their heart. Now that we were not a team, and now that I did not have to fight off a legion of males – icluding my friends – who lusted after her, I now wanted to enjoy Beatuy as they enjoyed her. I took in her sexiness. I undressed her. I did naughty things to her body. I raped her with my eyes – as any complete stranger would! I had me a good ol time, now that I don’t have to be a knight in shining army anymore. I, felt normal for the first time since we met. Gone was the gaze into the waves, and the weird-ass question from some kind of nut;

“Where are you?”

Alas, I was a member of…..the audience!

Meanwhile, in the background, Robert Delano is running all over the station trying to catch a bat with his coat to the amusement of this obese bag lady with swollen legs.

“Would you look at that man! He’s gone crazy!”

Her whole body shook like a bowl of jello. She laughed like the Laughing Lady at Playland at the Beach. She now let go a huge bellow as Bob climbed on a wooden bench, then made a mighty leap into the air – like a super hero! If Robert held a rapier, he would look like one of the Three Musketeers.

I had to chuckle, because if he managed to catch that bat, he would present it to Maiden Rena, the girl of his dreams – down on one knee.

“Let Bob be the Phantom of the Opera, my understudy who spiked my lover with No-Doz so he could get the lead.

From my position as total stranger, my eyes relayed this message to Maiden Rena;

“I’m done getting down on one knee for you.”

Men are such liars!

The last look I gave Rena as she prepared to board, said this;

“C’mon Rena! Is this our Swan Song? Is this the best you can do! How….uninspiring! Look at Robert, he’s doing a ballet for you! The Ballet of the Black Bat!”

Jon Presco

Copyright 2013

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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1 Response to In The Museum

  1. Reblogged this on Rosamond Press and commented:

    It has come together. All the pieces are here. https://rosamondpress.com/2015/12/15/don-the-juan-roscoe/

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