by Robert Fenhagen [USA]
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“Oh, my God! She’s peeing on the carpet!”
The Assistant Curator quietly said to her assistant..
“Should we call the police?” asked a popping eyed assistant?”
They tried not to glare at the disheveled, homeless appearing person, who had stopped
and urinated on the Museum’s new hundred thousand dollar carpeting. She now stood
next to the darkening spot on the beige carpeting that maintained its lovely nap even after
such an unsavory downpour.
“Isn’t it lovely? Asked the homeless woman.
“It’s growing. It’s alive. It’s natural, and it is me. It is a but a small contribution.”
“Let me just get Margaret out here to make sure she wants to call the police, or handle it
After the Assistant Curator disappeared through the Curator’s thick walnut office door,
they reappeared a few moments later.
“Call the rug service, but no outside interference will come in. I mean the police.”
“But Margaret. Surely we cannot have her continue to be here. What’s next? We turn
our backs as she defecates on the carpeting that we worked to hard to procure?
“I suggest that you two calm down.. Obviously, you don’t know who she is. Her family
donated a million-five last year. She is Philomena Watts, daughter of Sheldon Watts.
The Watts Foundation?”
The Curator replied with a slightly pained, but patient smile and nod of her head; the
same smile and nod that she would give a child.
“Now, please call the carpet people and why don’t one of you show her around. Nicely.”