My Fucking Artist

My Fucking Artist had a helmet that they would occasionally drop. One might say this is a fairly unusual action, to my dad, but not to the Artist, who had come to the conclusion that this idea is out of this world. Who would have thought, a helmet would be the item chosen.

My Fucking Artist always carried a block of cheese that they would rub on his belly. One might consider this to be a weird operation, to most, but not to the Artist, who had come to the conclusion that the idea was simply life. A block of cheese would be the item that was opted for.

My Fucking Artist looked for a sack of potatoes that they liked to put in the bath with him. This might appear to be a curious operation, to my dad, but not to the Artist, who feels that this idea is simply life. Bizarrely, a sack of potatoes is the thing to select.

My Fucking Artist desired a helmet that they would sometimes drop. One might find this to be a funny thought, to everybody you know, but not to the Artist, who assumed that it was in fact, stunning. Strangely, a helmet would be the thing that was selected.

My Fucking Artist always carried a bottle of beer that they liked to worship. This might appear to be a fairly weird idea, to most, but not to the Artist, who thinks that this idea was sublime. Who would have thought, a bottle of beer being the item opted for.

My Fucking Artist desperately desired a radiator that they would sometimes embrace. This seems a fairly astonishing thing to do, to me and my parents, but not to the Artist, who thought that the idea was stunning. Who would have thought, a radiator was the thing that was chosen.