Guernica (Mythklok Interstitial)
Aug. 18th, 2011 04:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: Guernica (Mythklok Interstitial)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Modern art
Warnings: Not much. Cubism?
Notes: This is partly inspired by those hilarious links about kid disasters Z likes to send me. Also: Guernica isn't really a mural, just a really, really, really big painting.
Lord Ganesh strode the corridors of his well appointed residence, appreciating the serenity of his understated decor. Although, unlike the acts depicted in the Kama Sutra, Lord Ganesh could not personally claim authorship for the concept of feng shui, he had, as it happened, been banging the brains out of the human who had originated the philosophy and thus felt some credit for its invention.
There were so many ways of arranging the physical world to encourage stillness, awe, and quiet meditation.
He entered his living room.
He stopped short.
He stared.
He sat down, very hard, on the couch.
"Dada!" squealed Elias, running over to ensure Ganesh's designer suit was as well dabbed with oil paint as the northern wall of his living room. "An koobizzm an Kasso!"
"Ah. Picasso. Good choice. So, is is your, er, Grey Period?" he asked, holding out Elias' little wet hands.
"Wow!" said Charles, drinking it all in. "So, the trip to Madrid went well?"
"It was obviously ... artistically stimulating,” the god sighed, downing his martini.
"And, lemme guess, Guernica?" asked Charles, grabbing the olive from the bottom of Ganesh's spent glass and popping it into his mouth.
"The artist was most impressed, so he told me, by the depiction of the horsie and the moo cow in that work."
"Uh-huh."
"An Dada!" Elias explained. "An da hunt an Wunky Wotan an Balhowwa!"
"Oh, so that's why the white tiger instead of a bull,” Charles pointed out.
"Da kitty an doggies!"
“Oh, yeah! Geri and Freki, and here's a dead demon....” Charles said, crouching down. “Waitaminnit,” he said, taking out his Dethphone, “lemme get a picture for your Auntie Raziel, I think she'll really dig this.”
“Wantie Was!”
“THIS IS FABULOUS!” declared the little angel, who at mention of aesthetic stimulation had appeared almost before the electrons had made their way through the ether. "Ganesh, you simply MUST let me invite the Renaissance angels over!" she declared, waving a pair of oversized sunglasses at him.
"Er," said Ganesh.
"We'll have a little reception. It will be darling!" she told him. "Would Boonie like to have an opening?" she asked Elias, picking him up and kissing his tangled hair. "Would you?"
"You propose an art reception? In my living room?" Ganesh moaned, his voice pitched at least an octave higher than his usual sonorous tones.
Raziel cast a quizzical eye at Charles, who shook his head. She sat down on the couch next to the unhappy elephant god. She patted his knee. "Too many angels dear? Wotan gets that way too." She clicked on her cell phone. "Sweetie! Your nephew has an angel disaster!"
"It's not.... A disaster...." Ganesh muttered.
"What's all the fussing and hollering?" demanded Wotan, who had just appeared with an angel twin clinging to each hand. "HOLY BARKING WOLF DEMONS! What have you been up to young man?" he inquired of Elias.
Elias had scrambled off of Raziel's lap to explain his metier to his newest patron. "An da hunt, an Bahawwa, an doggie, an hosie...."
"Uh-huh. Uh-huh." The king paused. Suddenly he seized Elias up in his mighty arms. "IS THIS MEANT TO BE MY SLEIPNIR?"
"Uh-huh! An Sweepneer big hosie an wide an hunt!"
"Would you paint a picture like this for your Uncle Wotan? Would you do that?"
"Bidchure for Wunky?"
"Could we borrow a kid?" Raziel asked Charles. "We could leave you a couple of ours as a deposit," she grinned, as Abby had already managed to worm her way into Charles' arms.
Charles frowned at his niece, and glanced back at Ganesh. "Uhhhh. What if you...?"
"Gotcha," said Raziel, replacing her sunglasses. "OK, come on kids, we're gonna paint with Cousin Boonie."
"Paintie big waw?" inquired Liam, his blue eye big.
"That sounds a splendid idea!" declared Wotan. "I never liked the paint job in the south hall dining room!"
"OK, we'll stop by Dimmu Burger and get Futility of Existence Meals for everyone first," Raziel told them.
"Fwenchie!" squealed several rugrat angels.
"Don't worry, boy," Wotan told Ganesh, gripping his shoulder. "At least they didn't get peanut butter on your saddle."
"You're never gonna let us live that down, are you?" asked Raziel.
"You don't mess with a man's tack!" Wotan declared as the noisy bunch disappeared.
Charles regarded Ganesh, still miserably gazing at his new mural.
“Aw. OK," said Charles, ever ready with a plan. "What we'll do is, we'll wait 'til he's famous, and the we'll sell it to MOMA for a million bucks!”
“I rather liked … my blank wall,” Ganesh said softly. He frowned and bent down to retrieve a small plastic action figure that had rolled underneath the couch.
“OK. We'll whitewash it! I know a guy-”
“You can't paint over it Sariel!" Ganesh interjected, his voice harsh. "It's brilliant!” he explained, more softly.
Charles frowned. “Well. Huh.” He cast his eyes at the wall for a moment. A solution for the insoluble? That was his specialty! “OK. All right. You lived here by yourself for a long time now. Maybe.... Maybe this isn't the best place to bring up Boon?”
“What?” said Ganesh, fingering the small toy.
“I mean, you like cities like Milan and Mumbai and Barcelona and all that crap. We're both rich as hell! Maybe we could build a place there, it would be for all three of us? And we could Scotchgard the walls or something?”
"Milan?"
"Sure! I've been thinking for a while, Boon needs a place more like they got at Valhalla! There's dogs and horses and demon's and man-eating tigers! It's a great place for a kid to grow up!"
"And, my residence...?"
"And this would just go back to being your palace! Ya know, with all the still reflecting pools and half empty rooms and crap!"
Ganesh was blinking at him. His quivering eyes now seemed to occupy half of his face. "You mean to leave me here .. all alone?" he asked, clutching the tiny plastic figure to him.
Charles stood absolutely still. And then suddenly he dove for the couch, pulling Ganesh's arm around his shoulders. "No no no no no. Of course not! Bad idea. What we'll do is ... We'll invite Raziel's Renaissance angel buddies and their artist friends over, and she can wear one of her ridiculous outfits, and you can make martinis! Lots and lots and LOTS of martinis."
Ganesh nodded, staring at the little monster toy in his hands.
"And. Uh. That's what we'll do. And. You know. He is big enough. If you explain, no more murals...."
"Yes. You are wise. But I cannot possibly be angry with him of course. As he is a small you."
"A WHAT?" demanded Charles, suddenly grabbing the little toy from Ganesh's hands.
"You. Only smaller. And pleasantly bite-sized." Ganesh actually allowed a small smile,
"Waddya mean? He's YOU, only, hit with a science fiction miniaturizing zap ray or some crap," Charles declared, waving the action figure. "Chibi Ganesh! That's what he is!"
"He is most definitely you," murmured Ganesh, his fingers now combing through soft angel hair. "A winged being, come to bring upheaval to my life, whom I adore?"
They sat for a while in silence.
"Does he even know what Guernica is about?" Charles asked after a time.
"I doubt it. I hope he shall never know. And," he asked, turning to Charles, "whatever is a Scotch Guard?"
"Scotchgard," laughed Charles, rubbing a finger through the drying little painted handprint on Ganesh's slacks. "Hey! You wanna hang on to the pants and auction 'em off with the mural?"
"You wish to sell my trousers?"
"You won't need 'em for much longer," grinned Charles, who had just climbed into Ganesh's lap.
"Did I ever tell you..." began Ganesh. "About how I invented feng shui?"
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Modern art
Warnings: Not much. Cubism?
Notes: This is partly inspired by those hilarious links about kid disasters Z likes to send me. Also: Guernica isn't really a mural, just a really, really, really big painting.
Lord Ganesh strode the corridors of his well appointed residence, appreciating the serenity of his understated decor. Although, unlike the acts depicted in the Kama Sutra, Lord Ganesh could not personally claim authorship for the concept of feng shui, he had, as it happened, been banging the brains out of the human who had originated the philosophy and thus felt some credit for its invention.
There were so many ways of arranging the physical world to encourage stillness, awe, and quiet meditation.
He entered his living room.
He stopped short.
He stared.
He sat down, very hard, on the couch.
"Dada!" squealed Elias, running over to ensure Ganesh's designer suit was as well dabbed with oil paint as the northern wall of his living room. "An koobizzm an Kasso!"
"Ah. Picasso. Good choice. So, is is your, er, Grey Period?" he asked, holding out Elias' little wet hands.
"Wow!" said Charles, drinking it all in. "So, the trip to Madrid went well?"
"It was obviously ... artistically stimulating,” the god sighed, downing his martini.
"And, lemme guess, Guernica?" asked Charles, grabbing the olive from the bottom of Ganesh's spent glass and popping it into his mouth.
"The artist was most impressed, so he told me, by the depiction of the horsie and the moo cow in that work."
"Uh-huh."
"An Dada!" Elias explained. "An da hunt an Wunky Wotan an Balhowwa!"
"Oh, so that's why the white tiger instead of a bull,” Charles pointed out.
"Da kitty an doggies!"
“Oh, yeah! Geri and Freki, and here's a dead demon....” Charles said, crouching down. “Waitaminnit,” he said, taking out his Dethphone, “lemme get a picture for your Auntie Raziel, I think she'll really dig this.”
“Wantie Was!”
“THIS IS FABULOUS!” declared the little angel, who at mention of aesthetic stimulation had appeared almost before the electrons had made their way through the ether. "Ganesh, you simply MUST let me invite the Renaissance angels over!" she declared, waving a pair of oversized sunglasses at him.
"Er," said Ganesh.
"We'll have a little reception. It will be darling!" she told him. "Would Boonie like to have an opening?" she asked Elias, picking him up and kissing his tangled hair. "Would you?"
"You propose an art reception? In my living room?" Ganesh moaned, his voice pitched at least an octave higher than his usual sonorous tones.
Raziel cast a quizzical eye at Charles, who shook his head. She sat down on the couch next to the unhappy elephant god. She patted his knee. "Too many angels dear? Wotan gets that way too." She clicked on her cell phone. "Sweetie! Your nephew has an angel disaster!"
"It's not.... A disaster...." Ganesh muttered.
"What's all the fussing and hollering?" demanded Wotan, who had just appeared with an angel twin clinging to each hand. "HOLY BARKING WOLF DEMONS! What have you been up to young man?" he inquired of Elias.
Elias had scrambled off of Raziel's lap to explain his metier to his newest patron. "An da hunt, an Bahawwa, an doggie, an hosie...."
"Uh-huh. Uh-huh." The king paused. Suddenly he seized Elias up in his mighty arms. "IS THIS MEANT TO BE MY SLEIPNIR?"
"Uh-huh! An Sweepneer big hosie an wide an hunt!"
"Would you paint a picture like this for your Uncle Wotan? Would you do that?"
"Bidchure for Wunky?"
"Could we borrow a kid?" Raziel asked Charles. "We could leave you a couple of ours as a deposit," she grinned, as Abby had already managed to worm her way into Charles' arms.
Charles frowned at his niece, and glanced back at Ganesh. "Uhhhh. What if you...?"
"Gotcha," said Raziel, replacing her sunglasses. "OK, come on kids, we're gonna paint with Cousin Boonie."
"Paintie big waw?" inquired Liam, his blue eye big.
"That sounds a splendid idea!" declared Wotan. "I never liked the paint job in the south hall dining room!"
"OK, we'll stop by Dimmu Burger and get Futility of Existence Meals for everyone first," Raziel told them.
"Fwenchie!" squealed several rugrat angels.
"Don't worry, boy," Wotan told Ganesh, gripping his shoulder. "At least they didn't get peanut butter on your saddle."
"You're never gonna let us live that down, are you?" asked Raziel.
"You don't mess with a man's tack!" Wotan declared as the noisy bunch disappeared.
Charles regarded Ganesh, still miserably gazing at his new mural.
“Aw. OK," said Charles, ever ready with a plan. "What we'll do is, we'll wait 'til he's famous, and the we'll sell it to MOMA for a million bucks!”
“I rather liked … my blank wall,” Ganesh said softly. He frowned and bent down to retrieve a small plastic action figure that had rolled underneath the couch.
“OK. We'll whitewash it! I know a guy-”
“You can't paint over it Sariel!" Ganesh interjected, his voice harsh. "It's brilliant!” he explained, more softly.
Charles frowned. “Well. Huh.” He cast his eyes at the wall for a moment. A solution for the insoluble? That was his specialty! “OK. All right. You lived here by yourself for a long time now. Maybe.... Maybe this isn't the best place to bring up Boon?”
“What?” said Ganesh, fingering the small toy.
“I mean, you like cities like Milan and Mumbai and Barcelona and all that crap. We're both rich as hell! Maybe we could build a place there, it would be for all three of us? And we could Scotchgard the walls or something?”
"Milan?"
"Sure! I've been thinking for a while, Boon needs a place more like they got at Valhalla! There's dogs and horses and demon's and man-eating tigers! It's a great place for a kid to grow up!"
"And, my residence...?"
"And this would just go back to being your palace! Ya know, with all the still reflecting pools and half empty rooms and crap!"
Ganesh was blinking at him. His quivering eyes now seemed to occupy half of his face. "You mean to leave me here .. all alone?" he asked, clutching the tiny plastic figure to him.
Charles stood absolutely still. And then suddenly he dove for the couch, pulling Ganesh's arm around his shoulders. "No no no no no. Of course not! Bad idea. What we'll do is ... We'll invite Raziel's Renaissance angel buddies and their artist friends over, and she can wear one of her ridiculous outfits, and you can make martinis! Lots and lots and LOTS of martinis."
Ganesh nodded, staring at the little monster toy in his hands.
"And. Uh. That's what we'll do. And. You know. He is big enough. If you explain, no more murals...."
"Yes. You are wise. But I cannot possibly be angry with him of course. As he is a small you."
"A WHAT?" demanded Charles, suddenly grabbing the little toy from Ganesh's hands.
"You. Only smaller. And pleasantly bite-sized." Ganesh actually allowed a small smile,
"Waddya mean? He's YOU, only, hit with a science fiction miniaturizing zap ray or some crap," Charles declared, waving the action figure. "Chibi Ganesh! That's what he is!"
"He is most definitely you," murmured Ganesh, his fingers now combing through soft angel hair. "A winged being, come to bring upheaval to my life, whom I adore?"
They sat for a while in silence.
"Does he even know what Guernica is about?" Charles asked after a time.
"I doubt it. I hope he shall never know. And," he asked, turning to Charles, "whatever is a Scotch Guard?"
"Scotchgard," laughed Charles, rubbing a finger through the drying little painted handprint on Ganesh's slacks. "Hey! You wanna hang on to the pants and auction 'em off with the mural?"
"You wish to sell my trousers?"
"You won't need 'em for much longer," grinned Charles, who had just climbed into Ganesh's lap.
"Did I ever tell you..." began Ganesh. "About how I invented feng shui?"
