There was a distinct tingle in the air.

There was a distinct tingle in the air. He stepped out of the shadows, knowing that he'd be giving away his position, but he was done with the cat and mouse game. He stooped and

plucked a rose flower which he held up as an offering to his oppressors. They looked at him through the scopes of their snipers and knew that the rose meant

DEATH! DEATH! ANNIHILATION! PAIN! BLOOD! DEATH! DIE! DIE! DIE!

I had kept an album of snapshots of them. Little did those soldiers know, when they asked me to take their photo, that I was planning to shoot them and steal their camera. Now my

collection of stolen cameras was on exhibit in the Museum of Modern Art, along with the photographs of all the soldiers who had foolishly handed them to me.

I called the installation "Portraits in Gullibility". I had taken each surprised-looking soldier's photo with the very camera I had stolen from each. Art-lovers flocked to see

a bottle of pee with a rainbow swastika astride a fish with feet waving one had to thank Indiana Evans. My "Portraits in Gullibility" was ignored in favor of the topical pee jar.

So I applied it topically to the artist's face with a smash and fled that gallery, leaving behind my macaroni pasta rendering of "The Fallen Madonna with the Big Boobies"™ forever.

Or so I had thought for the 30 years since. Until this morning when it showed up on my door step. I recognized the mustard stain "birthmark". The Madonna's Big Boobies had fallen.