‘I just don’t think they go,’ Evans’ wife sighed, looking at the two paintings side-by-side on the wall.
‘Are you sure?’ Evans asked her, standing next to her and crossing his arms. ‘Even just the one on the left?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she mused. ‘Could we try just you, on the left?’
The two contractors holding the gigantic paintings nodded dutifully, arms shaking with the strain. The one on the right took a few painful steps to the side, careful not to let the ridiculously expensive artwork topple over. His companion moved a few steps over, centring his painting on the wall.
‘Hmmm,’ Evans murmured, stroking his goatee. ‘Yes, that’s quite promising.’
‘You’re forgetting the morning light, dear,’ his wife said.
‘Quite right, poppet,’ he nodded. ‘It is rather difficult to tell, what with all of the wobbling that’s going on.’
‘Yes, why are you shaking so?’ she asked, directing her voice at the man holding the painting.
‘It’s–incredibly–heavy,’ he managed to grunt, almost passing out from the strain.
‘I suppose they’d prefer we employ some sort of decorative plaster panels for a home wall,’ Evans said sarcastically, and he and his wife roared with clearly-practiced laughter.
‘Unbelievable,’ she said, daintily dabbing a tear from her eye. ‘Truly, what will they think of next? Oh, go on, put it down, man,’ she waved her hand at the contractor, and he gratefully placed the painting down against the wall.
‘Thank you,’ he gasped, leaning against the mantlepiece for support.
‘Oh, why did you have to—’ Evans exclaimed, dropping his face in his hands. ‘Now we’ll need to re-plaster that entire wall!’
‘Sir?’ the contractor frowned. ‘Because I touched it?’
‘Walls aren’t meant to be touched,’ Evans’ wife screeched, even more angry than her husband. ‘I hope your insurance company has a good relationship with the best plasterer servicing the Melbourne area, or you’ll be in trouble!’
‘It’s a wall!’ the man said, flabbergasted. ‘What’s wrong with you people?’
‘You people?!’ she said, outraged. ‘How dare you bring race into this!’
‘Oh for crying out loud,’ the man rolled his eyes. ‘You know what, we quit. Enjoy having your stupid paintings on the floor.’