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she either has to BE DEAD or simply LOOK DEAD.

Tittagglia was on tour, spending the fall in the outer belt.  He was presently at the Clio Opera House in Clio, SC, acting out "Searching For Richard".

From inside, through an open window:

"KING RICHARD, ARE YOU HERE?
ARE YOU THERE?
ARE YOU, IN FACT, ANYWHERE?!?"

An inebriate shot a hole straight through the theater company's wagon, with the bullet passing through Tittagglia's wardrobe trunk, ruining several pairs of Olde English-style hosiery.

From inside, through the same open window:

"FALSTAFF HATH ABSCONDED WITH THE QUIDDITY OF THE BRUNCHEON LOAF!"

Tittagglia courted a lady later in the evening, and waited until her eyes closed, when she could pass for dead, before he made his amorous move.  He heard her breath stir and it killed the mood.  He considered putting his cloak over her face to stifle her breathing, but thought not too, for that was too violent for him.  He would just lie there all through the night, beside her, hoping she would die…

Either madness or the sign of an active mind.

Tittagglia rose normally and made himself a little note, a post-it note, filled with art supplies, and placed the note on his refrigerator.  He then went to adult day care as usual and had a pretty regular old day with the adult coloring book, filling in blank spaces with color.

The sign of an active mind, or the sign of madness, it is to be impulsed to fill in all the blank spaces all the time.

When he got home, he had another good start, because by that time, he had forget making the supply list, and when he saw the little yellow note on the cold metal refrigerator door, he freaked out in absolute horror.

It properly put him off his afternoon post, cup, and grommet.  He went into his bedroom, turned the lights off, locked the door, and hid under the sheets, never once allowing himself to think of the horrid note.

The next morning he arose, having completely forgotten the day before, showered and dressed, went to the kitchen, saw the note and placed it in his breast pocket for later,…

Lombard was rich!

Tittagglia worked his brush that morning, creating a natural landscape wholly from memory.

At once, a street urchin came knocking with a note labelled "Fingerini" in a delicate hand.  The note read:

Don't come to my rooms today.  I died.

Disheartened, Tittagglia did not return to his work, but went outside for a cup of coffee.  He was drinking some good espresso when he spotted Lady Fingerini walking down the opposite side of the street with Lombard, an American.

Tittagglia scoffed.  Lombard was rich, with twenty thousand a year!

The artist, disheartened, went back to his rooms, loaded a flint-lock and prepared to do harm to himself.  He walked into the garden, holding the barrel of the gun down, and the ball fell out, unbeknownst to Tittagglia.

In the garden, he put the gun to his head, and crying, pulled the trigger.  There was no shot, but the immediate effect was that his hair was lit on fire!

a special surprise, a whole round of surprises.

Tittagglia wanted to take his friend to a bistro, to a surprise birthday luncheon.  He went to where his friend worked, at Fibner & Locust, into his the office of his friend, Xavier d'Umbria, and hid behind a potted plant, a pussified tree of some kind that smelled like old socks.

Soon enough came Xavier along with another man, his boss, Deltorro.  Deltorro unzipped himself and Xavier went to work on him, like a secretary would, with piss and vinegar.

Tittagglia's eyes began to fill with tears.

Then Deltorro started saying how he felt unworthy of love, and now and again, he would hit Xavier on top of the head, causing Xavier to bite down slightly on his boss's swollen member.

No gilatto was had by Xavier that day at lunch, I tell you.  Tittagglia eventually passed out into unconsciousness behind by the potted plant.  He awoke after business hours and found a custodian who unlocked the front doors to let him out.

Tittagglia smiles, for a time.

Tittagglia was at a Monkey Planet floor show revival and having a great time.  Johan D'Mikl was his broker, and trying to call him every few seconds with a hot opportunity.

Cincillius Del'Oro was an Argentinian magnate looking to get into the art game, and Tittagglia's gross visions had crossed his radar.  Johan D'Mikl had a deal for Tittagglia: magic beans from Bouchard Climbing Plants. 

These were the goodie.

By the time the apes conquered humanity, Tittagglia had an entire bag of magic beans and Del'Oro had an artist collection starter kit, with things like sculptures of a giant finger in the middle of a donut hole and such other jarring, disjointed visions of the artist.

Tittagglia later planted the magic beans, but forgot to water them, so they came to nothing, looking like common garden weeds left to fend for themselves amongst the common plants.

C'est la vie.

Tittagglia smiles, for a time.

the village surrey

Tittagglia walked along looking at the flowers, just lost in a musing for his own artistic purposes, for artists are apt to spend time lost in thought or feeling, as we know.

He was walking along when he heard a queer sound from the wood.  He walked over to bushes at the edge of the wood and found someone hiding there!

Mon Giarbonn the village surrey was lying in the bushes, grimacing in pain.  As we all know, a surrey is a purveyor of fresh organ meats.

"What are you doing there, my good man?" asked Tittagglia.

"I fear I've broken my leg" said the surrey.

Tittagglia immediately went and procured several strong men to take Giarbonn to the doctor's cottage, where the surrey's suspicions were confirmed.  His leg was indeed broken.

He was taken to the home of a local widow, for which to mend in relative comfort.  It was the house where the widow's evil brother had put the head of his sister's lover in a flower pot, and then the brother found himsel…

Tittagglia Escadrille

The duo of Tittagglia and Brougham filled the Datsun 310 with sallow flesh and empty dreams.  Wu-tang was in the Wallsmark CD player.

"If I should poo on myself" said Tittagglia, "shoot me."

"How will I know if it's happened?" asked Brougham.

"Oh" said the artist.  "You will know."

"Go easy, man" said Brougham, nervously.

"Listen!" said Tittagglia, excited.  "Listen with your mind, Brougham.  Don't believe your eyes!  Don't trust your ears!"