I came home from college this afternoon to stay the evening with my family. On the way in, I stopped at the courthouse to renew my drivers license.
When I came out of the courthouse, I glanced at the row of shops across the street. I noticed a new one with a huge green-and-gold sign, but at that distance, all I could make out was “Gallery.”
“Neat!” I thought. “About time we had an art gallery in this town.” I go down the steps to the front parking lot to my car and then get a better look.
The sign reads “Gallery of Light.”
“Oh no,” I thought. “It can’t be what I’m thinking.”
Down below the huge sign, in the big store window is a smaller sign, reading, “Thomas Kinkade, Painter of Light.”
I thought about crossing the street and projectile-vomiting on the window, but I don’t want to put more effort into my puking than Thomas Kinkade does into his paintings. It just doesn’t seem right.