The Search for a New Artist Rages On

Greetings, homeschooled.

It was over two years ago that I personally led the campaign to find a new Daily Victim artist, chosen from among the other victims because I alone carry a clipboard. In previous years, Fargo (the author of this feature) had once abandoned the entire search to me while he went off to “get married.” I had at first assumed he was lying, except he brought back a “wife” some weeks later and moved in with her. I haven’t completely ruled out that it is but a calculated ruse, but I’m close.

I had hoped that Fargo wouldn’t again abandon me for weeks to weep bitterly over a pile of resumes that mostly resemble the scribbled sidebar of a protractor-stabbed 9th grade geometry book. (In fact, someone HAD submitted a 9th grade geometry book along with a list of page numbers of his favorite doodles.) However, I’m forced to relate to you the following grim incident:

This morning he came into my office – which mostly consists of a board wedged into the office supply closet – rolling a suitcase along behind him. “Good God you’re not abandoning me for a couple of weeks to get married again, are you!?” I blurted.

“Nonsense!” Fargo exclaimed, shoving several of the more expensive office supplies into his bag. “I’m getting divorced.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I replied, hiding my stapler. “How is your wife taking it?”

“She doesn’t know, and she’s not going to find out!” Fargo roared. “It’s my second wife that I’m divorcing, the one she doesn’t know about.” He sat down on his suitcase. “You know how they say, ‘What goes on in Vegas stays in Vegas?’ LIES! The next thing you know there’s a Haitian woman following you to work every day saying, ‘I not need green card now yes? No?’ Then she wants to get a puppy. Or some fish. Forget it. Anyways, I won’t be gone more than a couple of days, and you’ve go to write this feature while I find a lawyer. Or a hitman. I plan on doing a price-compare.”

“But, but … the artist search!” I yammered, pointing to a pile of disorganized papers. “Who will DRAW the Daily Victim!?”

“What about this guy?” Fargo asked, holding up someone’s sample work.

“That man drew an outline around his hand,” I explained, patiently. “And then decorated it with crayons to look like a turkey.”

“Wow, is THAT how he did that? He wasn’t looking at a real turkey … not even on TV?”

I lost my cool. “Haven’t you ever seen a turkey hand drawing before!?” I thundered, rising to my feet. My stapler clattered to the ground.

“Well excuuuse me,” Fargo grimaced, standing as well. “Pardon me for not having traveled the world’s finest art museums like yourself. Anyways, lemme know who you find. I’m outtie.”

And with that, he left.

As I sat down, I noticed that he’d taken my stapler with him.

[It’s your last chance to submit your work for consideration as the next Daily Victim artist. Serious submissions only, please! Good luck!]


Victim Pic Small

Hmm, this art portfolio is interesting. It looks like someone photocopied her face. And here’s a photocopy of her arm. And her – what is that? And here’s a … WHOA. I’ll be keeping these.


Score: 7.38; Total Votes: 2228 as of 2009-12-09.


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Thanks to that recent server crash, our online wedding never happened. Now get out of my house!

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The Daily Victim artist search is wrapping up. Like the dismal closure of a lavish Broadway play.

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