Mystical artist Tyrus Walker begins working feverishly on his latest creation,
His crowning achievement,
The defining product of his singular vision,
And culmination of his life to date.
He licks his fingers and consults the yellow pages.
Soon, two enormous weather balloons are tied down in his front yard!
Next, trembling with the beauty of it, Tyrus begins constructing a colossal snow and ice replica of his manhood.
It towers!
It blocks the noonday sun as it stretches toward the Heavens!
Mystical artist Tyrus Walker gasps as he gazes upon the finished work, then weeps openly in overwhelmed triumph.
"What the fuck is that?" ask his neighbors.
An artist, especially a genius, is never understood.
Tyrus installs floodlights, so that his masterwork may be seen twenty-four hours a day, from as far away as Portland!
In fact, it is probably visible from outer space.
Neighborhood children draw smiley faces on the weather balloons, and run away laughing as Tyrus hurries outside to scatter them.
Woe!
Their markers have pierced the weather balloons' delicate outer layers, and they slowly begin to go lopsided in wrinkly ruin.
The smiles turn to straight lines and then turn down as the balloons edges droop, to become frowns.
The eyes appear Asian, but upside down.
This was not mystical artist Tyrus Walker's vision at all!
But that is not the worst of it.
The sun comes out, like a jealous god, and as the temperature of the air rises, Tyrus's immense tower begins to list to one side!
The right side.
Why?
Soon, it is looking bowed and sad, like a depressed elephant.
It loses height.
It loses girth.
It loses majesty.
Mystical artist Tyrus Walker is distraught!
In all his years of creating similar works, this is an unprecedented disaster.
"This has never happened before!" he insists in a shocked voice.
Neighborhood wives laugh, and the sound wounds Tyrus!
He is about to rebuke them, when his magnificent sculpture falls in half, like a dying slushee.
It is too much.
Midgets and small boys strut around him, making jokes at Tyrus Walker's expense.
He dies a broken man, his ultimate achievement reduced to nothing.
Someone puts up a latticework arbor on the site.
It is modest, but beautiful, arching gracefully with a statue of the Virgin standing within it.
Each year, red roses bloom,
Their appearance and fragrance simple yet matchless in all the neighborhood.
