I Live Beside A Tree In A Park

There once was a beautiful painting on display in a condo in Tsawwassen, BC. The artist was unknown but the intention clear: enlighten people.

And yet, as in every well structured fairy tale, a problem must surface. The notorious painting was stolen quietly in the night leaving only an empty space on the wall. There was one solitary hole where a pin had been, and this absence stood for the metaphor in a caring man's heart. He had loved the painting dearly, perhaps even obsessively/bordering on insane, and longed for its return.

He summoned hunters and wise men from all surrounding kingdoms --but it was all to no avail. No word of the painting's whereabouts came forward, and the caring man was forced to write a small note.

"Please return the pony painting, I hold it dear to my heart," he penned.

Walking to the vacant spot that once housed his beloved, the caring man left the note. Perhaps, he thought to himself, perhaps someone will understand my pain and return the painting.

In a few days time something was returned to the man, but it was not the painting. He read the note of reply:

"The pony painting will not be returned. Perhaps the owner has removed it."

The caring man knew better than to believe such filth and lies. The painting had been stolen, and it was now gone forever.


A fair maiden in Montreal decided to take action for the caring man and after enlisting the help of her relaxed and artistic roommate, decided to make another pony painting.

And now, you may be thinking folks, that the maiden was attempting to replace a family pet with a new slobbering puppy, but-- Well, fuck that's what she was trying to do, okay?

Blah blah blah, romance, culmination of events. Behold, the new painting.

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