Trenia walked into the studio with an open mind and wounded heart. She was seeking solace in art and peace in creativity. Oh, the couple of martinis she'd indulged in didn't hurt She threw the cocktail glass out the window and grabbed the closest brush. Approaching the canvas like dart thrower, she lobbed a dab of olive green. "Take that Max!" The screen lit up. A digital slick haired man appeared. "St-st-st-stop that!" Max Headroom hated to be painted on. That was fine, she hated Max. She got more paint & defiled the creepy, leering Max Headroom image with pretty watercolors. "This is for interrupting my Doctor Who!" she declared, swiftly jabbing the protesting screen with a brush Laced with old paint from Cawley Hardware, mixed in 2998. The future valued the lethality the old lead paint added to their multi-use spaces. In the future lead poisoning was unheard of except in old wive's tales. Most ailments were bad -minton oriented, because in the future all contact sports will be eliminated. Yes, there will still be whiffle-ball, but only until someone gets hurt. Eventually lead-based paint sniffing will be the only viable form of entertainment for the young people, and everyone knows the nasty things that paint fumes do to your brain. I of course, never partook in such sultry things. I enjoyed the finer smells in life, like perfume and flowers, not running my brain by taking big whiffs of silicates and calcium. It was my finer nose that save everyone but Cedric but he has only himself to blame. I told him not to light that blunt in the presence of carbonic acid. We left and he died hot.



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