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The penguin peered out his window as the north wind blew the snow drifts higher and higher against his front door. “Hmmm,” he thought to himself, “what am I going to do to keep myself occupied now that I'm snowed in? One can only watch so many soap operas and game shows. Ah well, maybe there will be a good movie on.”
He settled himself down in his favourite armchair and opened a fresh can of sardines. Popping one of the salty fish in his mouth and grabbing the remote, he flipped through the channels, stopping at PBS. The Joy of Painting, with Bob Ross appeared on the screen superimposed over a rather hippy-like fellow who smiled into the camera. “Welcome to this week's show,” he began. “Today, we'll be painting a winter scene. Please grab your brushes and join me.”
The penguin watched, rather taken by how easy this guy made it look. “I can do that” he exclaimed out loud, “and what a perfect way to spend the afternoon. Why, my painting will rival anything Bob Ross can do. It will be my first masterpiece!” He rummaged deep in his basement and emerged with the easel, paint and brushes he had gotten for Christmas 15 years earlier.
With palette in hand, he stood in front of his easel watching Bob paint happy, little trees. When the show came to an end, he still hadn't touched paintbrush to canvas. He thought and thought and thought until his thinker was sore. “This may not be so easy after all” he muttered, looking out his window at the happy, little snowdrifts. He set down his paints, sat down on the floor and stared at the blank canvas.
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Lisdowney, Tequila & River_runr |
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