Magical Paint - 2

“That him?”


“The scrawny dude or the guy who looks like a blimp?”


“Huh. He doesn’t look like much.

“Well, he’s definitely got more strength and power in his pinky finger than you’ll ever have.”

“That doesn’t mean he’ll be able to use it.”

“Trust me. He’s the only one with the Brush.”

“Hah, look at him. He just dropped that white thing into the tunnel.”

“If you’ve seen his recent paintings, they’re far more vibrant and energetic than ones he’s painted before. The Brush is manifesting itself.”

Why are you talking like that? You sound like that creep from one of those instructional films boss makes us watch.”

“What happened to the last guy who used the Brush, anyway?”

“Huh? You mean Vinny? He died.”

“I know. How, though? I never found out.”

“We had some of our guys possess him.”

“Ah. What did you make him do?”

“Eat some of his pastels, cut off his left ear. Psycho stuff like that. I kind of felt sorry for him. Poor chap. He went genuinely mental after the first few months.”

“Did the Brush ever actually come to use?”

“No. We had him shoot himself because he almost told half of town about us.”

“Shame. It was so close back then…”

“It was. But now, the time’s come again.”

“To him the Brush is probably non-existent right now, but when the time comes, he’ll realize. And by then, it’ll be too late.”

“You’re really trying hard to sound like that creep, aren’t you?”

“One slip up, that’s all it takes. One slip up.

Then what?

It's all ours.

The End

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