Archive for October, 2010

Do we have to call security?……..

October 28, 2010

This is Redneck  the Hummer, who is, for lack of a better term, sheriff of Hairy Tapestry.  He rules with an iron wing and brooks no backtalk.  Redneck, or Neckers, as he is referred to by those in the know, is on patrol 24/7 and woe betide anyone who steps out of line.  At the first breach of justice, the whirr of mighty wings can be heard on the wind and the fate of the evildoer is swift and merciless.

Neckers has been studying the dialect of broad Yorkshire because he thinks it makes him sound fearsome.  When this photo was taken he was regarding us with deep suspicion and growled ” Gerraway by, ‘ee bloody ratbags, or ah’ll stomp ‘ee til ‘ee’r fit fer naught but the knacker’s..aye, that ah will.”  nobody crosses the Necker Man.

Posted by Susan who is reading The Red Riding Quartet by David Peace Photos by Dennis.  See strange art at  Galerie Yggdrasil

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The Tattoo….

October 8, 2010

It would appear that I have put this task off as long as is dragonly possible.

Some weeks back, we made, alas, an  appointment at L’idiot Douleur for  Skosh to get his much-desired…gag…tattoo.  I have since then found many and varied methods of putting this disaster off, feigning every malady I could dream up from the common cold to leprosy, but Skosh has seen through my last three attempts and has become increasingly more irritable with every passing day until finally a small tantrum on his part  cost me a set of drapes and caused me to cave. The ‘tktktktktkkkkkkkTTTKKKK!!’ I can live with, but a gout of flame is not acceptable.  So.  Off we went to visit the annoying and arrogant Francois.

Skosh decided that although a tattoo in the style of Monet would be an intellectual addition to his backside (not to mention extensive bragging rights) it would not be the desired manner of exhibiting his undying devotion to his comely, if somewhat fluffy, Heather. Therefore, he opted instead for a copy of the portrait  that I drew of Heather for her birthday. So, with much harrumphing and snorting from Francois, we gathered in the largest room in the tattoo parlor and with inks and needles at hand, Francois set to work but not before he had whispered in an aside to me that the scales that had to be removed would, indeed, grow back and cover the tattoo if that was my eventual desire.(Shhh. Skosh doesn’t know this.)

At first, things went well since at the start of the operation several scales did have to be removed from the underside of skosh’s tail to bare the….skin?…beneath to afford a smooth surface for the art.  this proved to be painless and a delight for Heather, who gathered the brightly colored and shiny objects to her bosom for a collection of memorabilia that they have begun as a kind of pre-pre-pre engagement album…but if I know Heather, she may be saving them for a later attempt at consumption.  ugh…but Heather does view just about everything as a possible comestible.  We are still working on that diet.

For awhile things went along quite nicely, with only an occasional elvish obscenity from Skosh whenLe Maitre hit a nerve….but then, a little bluish green liquid began to appear under the needle.  Skosh refused to breathe even a dot of smoke since he wanted Heather to think he could really man(?) up under the pain involved, But Heather was not fooled for long and began to twitter nervously.   Soon the twitters became tweets, which rapidly morphed into squawks of dismay and she began to lift into the air as the needle sounds became louder and more insistent.  Poor Heather had never seen dragon blood before but  she, by god, knew it when she saw it, and quickly became hysterical. Just as the tattoo was in its final stages, there was a resounding crash and tinkle of needles and inkpots hitting the floor, followed by a floppy THUD, announcing that  Heather had fainted dead away.

Poor Skosh.  he dithered and fluttered around her recumbent form much as she had been around his not a moment earlier, and Francois, apparently used to this type of thing, grunted disgustedly and handed me an antique fan which Skosh seized and began to wave about Heather. This did absolutely nothing except to make him more excitable.  Knowing what was about to happen and fearing for M. Francois’ parlor, I grabbed Heather and ran for the door with Skosh hot on my heels and we headed for home at a frantic clip.

That was some hours ago, and we have all calmed down to a manageable level.  I have banished Skosh to his room with the water heater blanket around his head, and am being treated to muffled mutterings and  ‘tktktktktkrrrrrr’s. But at least home and possibly hearth are out of immediate danger.  Heather is in my bed, covered with her favorite satin quilt, and has whispered weakly in my ear that it would help her recovery immensely if she could possibly have a Little Something to ward off further weakness, and did I by some miracle have a pound or two of gummi worms about my person?  Most of us first sit up, and then take on nourishment,  but Heather would prefer to tuck in before taking such a rash action as sitting.  She is, as we have mentioned, rather overfond of her intake, and after all…..a chick can’t be too careful.     -Posted by Susan

Find strange art by Susan and Dennis at Galerie Yggdrasil

Welcome to the hairy tapestry…..

October 1, 2010

Dexter. Age five months. Likes toy mice, chocolate ice cream, naps.

A wise kitten, Dexter has a question for Sredni Vashtar, our resident critic. “Master, what is the truest form of artistic expression?”

“Nature, grasshopper. Nature tooth and claw, and of course leaf and vine. One must realize, art can but imitate the REAL.”

Dexter asks: “But master. what about Cubism?”

Posted by Dennis.                                                      Find strange art by Susan and Dennis at Galerie Yggdrasil