‘You’ll have to explain it to me one more time,’ I said doubtfully.
‘Okay, okay,’ Rudy rolled his shoulders, settling into a stance like he was about to confront a velociraptor or something. ‘Close your eyes.’
I reluctantly obliged.
‘Now,’ he said as soon as they were closed. ‘Picture this: a skull with flaming eyes.’
‘Picturing.’
‘Now picture a fish with dragon wings.’
‘Uh,’ I frowned, ‘picturing, too. I guess.’
‘Now imagine a clown with baby hands.’
‘Rudy,’ I scowled, cracking an eye open to glare at him.
‘It has a point,’ he insisted.
‘Which is?’
‘It’s all outside of the box.’
‘What?’
‘I’m an artist,’ he nodded. ‘I’m contributing to the broader collective unconsciousness.’
‘Right,’ I sighed. ‘But you’ve also got to contribute to your broader collective bank account.’
‘The money comes later, big brother,’ he scoffed. ‘Now is the time for the real.’
‘So what?’ I asked him. ‘How is this going to fulfil your dreams?’
‘One word,’ he nodded excitedly. ‘Vans.’
‘Vans?’ I frowned. ‘Like you’re going to—’
‘Paint them on the side of vans, yeah,’ he nodded excitedly.
‘You know,’ I sighed. ‘There could be work in this sort of thing. Have you thought about working for a company that designs fishing boat graphics?’
‘A company?’ he scoffed again. ‘Man, the man has you wrapped around his finger.’
‘Does he though?’ I frowned, looking around the beachside shack where we were having this conversation.
‘I refuse to work for another soulless corporino, man,’ he shook his head. ‘Nah, I only work for people with souls.’
‘People with souls,’ I nodded. ‘Right.’
‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘Just… who has a soul, y’know.’
‘People that like… have them,’ he frowned.
‘So what precludes people from having a soul?’
‘It’s immaterial, man.’
‘So why does the material matter? Would I lose my soul if I owned, say, a sailboat? Print copies of classic novels?’
‘No, of course not—’
‘I wouldn’t?’
‘I mean of course that doesn’t—’ he cut himself off, flustered. ‘You’re twisting my words, man!’
‘Maybe,’ I sighed, walking over to clap him on the shoulder. ‘Just… just get a job, would you?’