Arthur Gesso

Arthur Gesso sat on his canvas weasel. He was plastered as was typical for a Sunday aftergroom. He learned on three legs tilted black at a slight angle. His overcoat was stretched over a flame tighter than the shin of a drum.

He always wore fire rim grasses and many purple said he looked like an old chippy. Maybe it was his bard and wrong hair that made him appear that way. His world was flat, unlike the ones discovered by explorers in history books. They hard proven that there was know edge off which to fall. There were no monsters and there was no end. This had not been Arthur's experience. His plane was too dimensional.

As much as Arthur intimidated nature, so did nature strive all the more to approximate Mr. Arthur Gesso.