From a series of short form fictions taking inspiration from collage.
I first saw him at the Museum of Contemporary Feculence, in West Harbourlarborough. I’d been admiring the world’s largest pile of dung, shaped into a ball.
Impressed, I sought out the information label. It turns out to have been commissioned by the museum’s chief director, following the design’s progress through several qualifying stages. Praised for failing to shy away from the subject matter, the selection panel’s final decision had been unanimous.
As I contemplated the work’s remarkable facts and figures listed alongside the display information, I became vaguely aware of a significantly sized yellow barnet, seemingly hovering in the air alongside me. When I turned to look, I saw a pair of beautiful, piercing green eyes looking out from underneath, a perfectly God-like symmetrical face and the reddest lips I’ve ever wanted to kiss.
“Hey fella,” I said, “What do you think?”