I Love Monologue

As an up-and-coming artist I found myself in a peculiar situation - the sight of a white canvas and a paint brush in my hand induced an unbearable state of boredom. So I sat out on a quest to find the perfect muse to rejuvenate my artistic spirit. After six months of searching every avenue of society, it sauntered into my life. Within three weeks, I had fallen in love and made two life altering decisions. Now, all I needed to do was to have a chat with my mother. Bright and early Sunday morning, I arrived at the family’s country estate, Whispering Breeze, and found my mother relaxing on the veranda. Since she always insisted on formality, I greeted her with the proper salutations, and then eased into the rattan lounge chair opposite
Of course, this infuriated Lady Joséphine, who growled ferociously, then chased him around and around, the ancient pine trees at the base of the Veranda, and used every trick in her arsenal to force Sir Bonaparte to relinquish his prized possession. Nonetheless, he refused to bend to her bullying ways. The dog’s antics had brought forth gay laughter from my mother, which added a touch of softness to her domineering disposition. That’s when I decided to take advantage of the situation and without mincing my words, I nonchalantly say, “Whitney, I withdrawn from the J. C. West Academy of Fine Art , on Friday and have accepted a proposition put forth by Tommy Apple, an iconic tattoo artist and owner of the multinational corporation, Ink It Baby.” Well, by the time the last syllable, escaped my lips, my mother had abandoned her normal aristocratic demeanor and vulgarly yelled, “Homer West Scooter I didn’t raise a lunatic, or perhaps I did, since only a lunatic would leave the Academy, six months before graduation. Please, tell me, how many rounds of eeny, meeny, miny, moe, you played before you decided to slither into the dark shadows of society? Do you realize what your unorthodox behavior has
Charles left the servants expressed their condolences. Fighting back a welter of emotions, I thank them for their kindness and gave them instructions for the following week. Somberly, I drove back to my condo. Once there I placed a call to Tommy. With empathy he told me to take a three week hiatus to reorganize my life. By noon the following day, Dr, Charles had completed the autopsy and called to tell me my mother had died from suffocation, caused by a fish bone lodged in her larynx. Sympathetically, he offered to handle the funeral arraignments. On Wednesday morning my mother joined her ancestors in the family mausoleum. After the funeral, I returned to my condo where I’m haunted by jagged memories. Be that it may, I pulled myself together Thursday afternoon, and half- heartily drove the twenty miles to the office of my mother’s attorney, Jeremy Slick. Two seconds after I entered his office, he closed the door and bluntly says, “Homer, after you informed your mother of your future career choice she re-wrote her will. Naturally, she intended to share this information with you after dinner on that ill-fated