My friend Edvard had invited me over to see his latest art works and to ask for my help.
He was a struggling artist, but most people thought he showed promise.
He asked me if I would pose for him. I felt flattered that he would ask and asked him why.
He said he needed an unusual subject and I was as unusual as they came, so he said. I wasn’t all that pleased by that, but in the name of assisting a budding artist I said yes and when would he like to start. He said he just needed to do a few sketches and he’d take it from there.
“Frown,” he said sketching furiously, “now smile, good, can you look horrified?” I did my best and even his request for me looking startled I did my best on.
He thanked me for my assistance and off I went. Weeks later he asked if I’d like to come round to see what he had come up with. Like most people, I was vain enough to know my own curiosity would take me there as quickly as I could.
I stood in front of the canvas and stared at what was his best attempt at capturing the real me as he called it. I looked like a startled rabbit caught in headlights.
“That’s the best you could do?” I asked feeling a bit disappointed.
“It’s the real you,” he replied with a sense of satisfaction in his voice. “I’m putting it the art show next week in the city,” he went on.
“Well,” I said, “good thing you still have your day job. I don’t think it will go very well at all.”