jrleyvas | October 27th,2012 | Art, California, Commentary, Fiction, Humor, Museums, Travel, Writing | No Comments »
Duke: “Boy, am I a breath of wind.”
Hank: “We only turned a sharp corner, nincompoop.”
“I seen the wind shift directions, so we aren’t in a cactus no more.”
“Where on earth have our battered feet taken us?”
“To the Yeti monster’s death lair, or something. I don’t want nothing to do with his sharp sharpness let me tell you.”
“I cannot sense foul play, for this place reminds me of artistic expression gone awry.”
“I give lots of expressions I think or, at least, try.”
“Come, let us go sit on that floating boulder and enjoy the view.”
[photo courtesy of Janine Saunders Sands]
“Are those squires being eaten?”
“Depends on what you mean. They have them invisibility cloaks so the monster can’t pick up their sense.”
“You mean scent.”
“Like wafting a piece of paper.”
“Hurry before the sun dips low. The mighty boulder should cool by then and will be far too cold to sit on.”
“But, it’s booby-trapped Hank.”
“Grab your king’s cloak and listen.”
“Will you raise my wife and marry my children if I do?”
“Blabbering buffoon, no ill will come to you.”
“All right, but I warned you.”
Tags: art, commentary, duke, hank, humor, LACMA, Los Angeles, Los Angeles County Museum of Art, museums, travel, yeti monster
This entry was posted on Saturday, October 27th, 2012 at 2:03 am and is filed under Art, California, Commentary, Fiction, Humor, Museums, Travel, Writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
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Hank and Duke journey towards the Levitated Mass at Los Angeles County Museum of Art (pt. 1 of 2)
jrleyvas | October 27th,2012 | Art, California, Commentary, Fiction, Humor, Museums, Travel, Writing | No Comments »
Duke: “Boy, am I a breath of wind.”
Hank: “We only turned a sharp corner, nincompoop.”
“I seen the wind shift directions, so we aren’t in a cactus no more.”
“Where on earth have our battered feet taken us?”
“To the Yeti monster’s death lair, or something. I don’t want nothing to do with his sharp sharpness let me tell you.”
“I cannot sense foul play, for this place reminds me of artistic expression gone awry.”
“I give lots of expressions I think or, at least, try.”
“Come, let us go sit on that floating boulder and enjoy the view.”
[photo courtesy of Janine Saunders Sands]
“Are those squires being eaten?”
“Depends on what you mean. They have them invisibility cloaks so the monster can’t pick up their sense.”
“You mean scent.”
“Like wafting a piece of paper.”
“Hurry before the sun dips low. The mighty boulder should cool by then and will be far too cold to sit on.”
“But, it’s booby-trapped Hank.”
“Grab your king’s cloak and listen.”
“Will you raise my wife and marry my children if I do?”
“Blabbering buffoon, no ill will come to you.”
“All right, but I warned you.”
Tags: art, commentary, duke, hank, humor, LACMA, Los Angeles, Los Angeles County Museum of Art, museums, travel, yeti monster
This entry was posted on Saturday, October 27th, 2012 at 2:03 am and is filed under Art, California, Commentary, Fiction, Humor, Museums, Travel, Writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.