Working for a living
This fancy doofus comes in to my studio, all dressed up in more silk and feathers than I would be embarrassed to even own, let alone wear in public.
Says he wants a portrait of the most beautiful woman in the world, his "one and only" his "true love".
I tell him how much I charge and he goes all "pshaw" on me, money is no object.
You'd think I'd learn.
So the dame shows up, she's not ugly or anything, but the dude obviously has his rose-colored glasses on.
She also doesn't look too happy about the project
There's all this flumphing around about who and what and where is gonna be in the picture.
As if he knew what he's talking about.
He wants to be in it, of course, with his silly hat and his spy glass looking at heaven or some damn thing
He wants some musician friend in the picture.
So I get it done, leaving out his most idiotic ideas.
Comes to pick it up, he starts griping about everything in the piece, color's wrong, she don't look right, this is too dark, that is too bright, shouldn't the lute be on the other side, blah, blah, what an idiot.
Yeah, you're right, he don't want to pay.
No dough, no show, pal.
So it sits in the back, nobody wants the thing.
Week or so later, his girlfriend dumps him.
What took her so long, I wanna know.
Guess whose fault that was?
He comes by and chucks a brick through my window.
It's the way these people are, privileged a-holes, the lot.