"I Never Promised You A Rose Garden" was her favorite song. Predictably she sang it only in her rose garden which she tended like a woman possessed, with burning, scalding hot orange eyes, her body reeking and bestial, while he lay inside on a recliner belching in precise 11/4 meter to that Van Der Graaf Generator tune. Critics called their arrangement "heavenly" and as conceptual artists, with each of their movements generously funded by the Kress Foundation, it couldn't have been more ideal.
That is, until TV's newest detective Ronnie "Poops" McCluggage burst into the room.
"We can either play it my way, or I'll have to get tough," he says, chomping on his unlit cigar, adjusting his visible diaper. He spits: "Which one of you created that installation at the Yale University Art Gallery in 2007? Don't make me ask twice. You know, the one that Rosalind Krauss of the October journal called "...striated...breathing with formative primacy...""
Silence from the couple. "Poops" takes out a grenade.
Poops: I WILL USE THIS.
(LAUGHS)
"Poops" addresses the camera.
Poops: You don't know me. And I don't know you. BUT I DON'T LIKE YOU. And I will BRING YOU TO A FUCKING HALT.
Freeze frame.
Insert graphic: POOPS! He's VERY DANGEROUS!
Announcer: Wednesdays at 9, 8 Central and Mountain.
(LAUGHS)
Pause.
(LAUGHS)
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