All i'm trying to do is gather up the pieces from my righteous rapmaster rocketship so I can get off of this forsaken planet. A phone rings somewhere. Santa’s been carelessly flying around in his jetpack, scattering these colorful boxes around. There’s something not right about that. I like them for the most part. Rocket skates, a slingshot. They’re useful, especially with all of the natives around. Earthlings are everywhere. A phone rings again. Lil devils, lil cupids, they’re up to no good. And don’t even get me started on that cackling proctologist. There is a handful of Earthlings that I can stomach. Santa’s alright in my book, and so are those hula girls, mmm. A phone rings loudly. And this guy’s alright. The carrotman. Kinda creepy, but he’s the only one I know that can guess the contents of any box. Pretty handy to know if you’re about to get electrocuted, or get a new pair of spring shoes.
Acrylic on Panel. Painted during a speed-painting session with Sab & Barbarosa.
