Fun

Funny The first thing Bartholomew noticed was the apple. Not just any apple, mind you, but a ludicrously large, gleaming Granny Smith perched precariously atop Reginald’s head. It was held in place, apparently, by some sort of elaborate gravity-defying hairstyle that resembled a bird’s nest woven from steel wool. Bartholomew, a caricature artist with a shaky hand and an even shakier grip on reality, was supposed to be drawing Reginald. This was proving… challenging. “So,” Bartholomew stammered, his charcoal pencil hovering nervously over the sketchpad, “that’s… quite the… accessory.” Reginald beamed, his beard, which looked like it hadn't been properly trimmed since the Jurassic period, practically vibrating. “This? Oh, you mean Priscilla. Yes, she’s a bit of a showstopper, isn’t she? Keeps me focused, you see. Reminds me of my orchard.” An orchard. Right. Bartholomew imagined an orchard filled with sentient apples, bossing the other fruit around and demanding higher dividends. This was going to be a long day. He started sketching, exaggerating Reginald’s already prominent nose and the sheer, unadulterated audacity of the apple. He added a mischievous glint in Reginald’s eye, hinting at the underlying madness that was clearly bubbling just beneath the surface. Beside Reginald, he started a new sketch - a lady with glasses. He tried to sketch the woman in a similar cartoony style, like the artist in the image. His temporary studio was a cramped corner of the annual "Bumbershoot Bazaar," a festival of questionable art, even more questionable food, and a general air of blissful bewilderment. Bartholomew had set up shop hoping to make enough money to cover his crippling addiction to artisanal cheese puffs. So far, he'd drawn a chihuahua that looked disturbingly like