It wasn’t that bad, point and spray. Pause a little for the mosquitos to do their thing, then repeat—section by section.
You could hear the corridor outside filling with people, but it didn’t stress me. I had started whistling when mosquitos sucked away the last of the graffiti. I looked across a pristine gallery to see Duchamp’s fountain resting on a plinth.
In a quick movement, I did a wild west style quick draw and lightly sprayed some mosquitos at the readymade. I immediately regretted it; the mosquitos descended on the sculpture and went to work. Like the wall, Duchamp’s fountain swelled and then receded. But there was no graffiti to remove. Instead, the mosquitos left an utterly different porcelain form behind. Clippy looked bewildered when she asked, “You didn’t?”
Ah-oh. The color drained from my face as we stared at the ‘variation’ to the centerpiece. I think The Jaques is going to be pissed.
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