Funnygirl (funnygir1) wrote in tellmeastory,

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a weird story.

Mr.Dilumphadee had a lovely holiday on the south shore of Sneezerickle last month. He went to cure a bad case of Frijinkalitis. (In case you're not familiar with this disease, it turns you a fresh shade of lime green with little fuschia pinstripes and you can only speak the word Pierre. Imagine holding a conversation with a Frijinkalitic person -- So how are you doing today? Pierre... That bad eh? Well I'm about to go for a swim, you up to it? PIERRE! uhh... ok.) Apparently the only cure for Frijinkalitis is a long lay underneath the sun on the purple beaches of Sneezerickle. So Mr.Dilumphadee had his true vacation only after about a week of laying motionless on the beach. It wasn't a happy time for him. All he could REALLY do was think, and that much time alone with your own thoughts can be slightly challenging for anyone.

Mr.Dilumphadee began to think really critically about his life. He thought of his wife, Yrtl, who had to stay home and sustain their fruit freeze-drying business. Did he really love her? After about two days thinking on that topic, far too long thinking about something because after a while you simply question yourself too much, he decided very firmly that he loved her with his entire being, more than anything else...he had time to compare his love for her with everything else...

Then he began to question his job. Why did he ever get into fruit freeze-drying anyways? Fruit was much better fresh and, come to think of it, he hated fruit. He was more of a meat and potatoes man. What he really loved to do was paint landscapes...but there really wasn't much of a market out there for landscapes, so he nixed that ambition before he had barely considered it.

But Mr.Dilumphadee continued to dream of painting the most beautiful landscapes you had ever seen, full of vibrant colors which transcended sight, which expressed the inner spirit of land, the beauty of the life within a thing that many people considered to be lifeless.

Mr.Dilumphadee didn't consider another thing throughout the rest of the week. The next 120 hours were filled with his contemplating his employment, and once he had returned to his original color and was able to say,"Piebald," he decided that this was his VACATION and he was going to paint a landscape. So, Mr.Dilumphadee set up an easel and palatte overlooking the beach that he had come to know so well.

He could now feel the rhythm of the ocean, the exquisite cycle of the life of the sand, the harmonizing temperament of the surrounding rocks and fields of seawheat. Mr.Dilumphadee closed his eyes and breathed the fresh seawater scent in swiftly through his nostrils. This is what it is to be alive, he thought as he stroked his paintbrush over the canvas, This is what it is to have meaning.

Mr.Dilumphadee never considered for another moment whether he should continue freeze-drying fruit or not. (Yrtl truly loved the business, and he didn't stand in her way.) The painting that Mr.Dilumphadee painted that day captured the seashore exactly -- not in a physical, realistic way, but much deeper than that. It spoke directly to the heart of the observer,"I am the purple beaches of Sneezerickle, the ocean and all contained therein, the rocks and the seawheat, I am this system of life." By viewing it, one could know what it was like to live as the land did.

He never sold a landscape ever. Those who were highbrow art critics couldn't understand the feelings Mr.Dilumphadee's art gave them. Those who could were given the painting freely. Mr.Dilumphadee had found the rhythm of his own life and wanted to share it with all he could.

His wife sold them some fruit to take with their painting. ;)
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