I'd like to combine two incompatible things: Alejandro and art. It's not like Ale is a complete country bumpkin; his entire knowledge ends with the Mona Lisa, which someone painted and considers a masterpiece. He also likes simple summer landscapes, as they lack narratives that require understanding and delving into. The same can't be said for Rudy; he adores lectures on artists of various eras; he's willing to listen to anything. He's particularly fond of ancient paintings that depict myths or the simple lives of people. The only thing he doesn't like is still lifes; they're too banal and simple.
And then came the day Rudy, but not Vargas, had been waiting for. With difficulty raising Alejandro from his bed—for now is "a well-deserved vacation when normal people sleep!"—they went to the art museum.
Rudy led Alejandro through the halls, telling him about an artist or a painting. All this time, Ale was trying to show his interest, and it was clear that Rudy wasn't particularly interested, but he didn't want to offend Rudy, who was telling him all this with such interest. Rudy was a little offended by his friend's indifference to art, but he had to somehow cultivate him. It would have been better if Alejandro had continued to walk like a sleepy fly, but when they reached the hall with the statues, a stupid smile crept across Ale's face.
- Why is their dick so small?
- ...is that all you care about?
- So why is it so small? Mine is bigger.
Words can't describe how ashamed Parra was; he couldn't even figure out what embarrassed him more: the mere mention of genitals outside the right atmosphere or the way Ale asked the question.
- Why are you blushing?
- ...in those days, a big penis meant looking like an animal, and people were superior to animals.
- Okay, let's move on.
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- No, how stoned do you have to be to draw something like that?
- It's The Garden of Earthly Delights. A triptych about heaven, earthly life, and hell. See that owl on the part with heaven? An owl is a symbol of evil, and that evil has already found its way into God's garden.
- Is that Adam?
- Yes
- He looks like he's already had his fill of apples.
Alejandro had a stupid smile on his face, but he didn't seem to see anything out of the ordinary. Rodolfo just sighed calmly when it happened again.
- That guy has notes written on his ass, is that something classical?
- … No, as far as I remember, Bosch wrote that short melody himself.
- Let's move on?
- Well, wait, I'll have a look.
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Everything went swimmingly from there. Ale seemed to even get into it and kept asking about the paintings' subjects. At the painting "Ambassadors," Vargas froze and began circling the canvas, confused.
- Was there Photoshop back then?
- No, it's an allegory of death.
- Aaah...
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- …. Pfft
- Fuck, just try making a joke about him; he wasn't even born back then.
