Kooky Exclusive

It's not often the News Gods do you a solid so early in the week - but on this fine Monday morning, I caught nothing short of a thunderbolt. KA-WHACKA LACK! The dust cleared and I spotted three figures: two glib hipsters and some stiff in a sleeping bag. Together they strode toward me, drawing stares and glares from the unwashed throng at Winston-Salem's crowded downtown bus depot. Okay, so two of 'em strode; the guy on the handtruck kinda floated Still, they made a damned entrancing trio and as they passed I fell in behind them, raking away singed eyebrows, shouldering my weapon and wishing for once I'd read the press release.

I hadn't. I'd driven all the way to Winston without so much as glancing at the crumpled piece of paper in the passenger seat. Instead, I'd leaned forward into the wheel, knowing only 'an artist' was gonna exhibit some kind of work. Paper Mache, Watercolor, Day-Glo Play-Doh...I knew not the medium. I just knew I was going to make ninety seconds of television from it, come hell or highlighter. So you can fathom my glee when, instead of being met my a grade school teacher with plaster of paris in her hair, I stumbled upon a couple of crazed curators back from a weekend at Bernie's. I couldn't help but grin as I moved in for the kill.

But then the men stopped short, and with the flick of a few quick-ties, adhered their less animated friend to a light pole. There he stood, all sensible shoes and and downy filled slumber sack. I glanced around and saw several faces I wanted to press under glass. So I did, so working the lens for all I could squeeze from it before turning back to the light pole for 'the big reveal'. It did not happen. Instead of hoisting the big blue sleeping bag upward to unveil whatever sacred creation lay beneath, the two museum men disoled into the sea people, never letting the cat out of the bag...

It was then, the crowd moved in...