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A wall Mural speed paint influenced by “American Psycho” by Bret Easton Ellis. The words written were taken from the book as follows:
“Picked them up from the printer’s yesterday,” I mention. “Cool coloring,” Van Patten says, studying the card closely.
“That’s bone,” I point out. “And the lettering is something called Silian Rail.”
“Silian Rail?” McDermott asks.
“Yeah. Not bad, huh?”
“It is very cool, Bateman,” Van Patten says guardedly, the jealous bastard, “but that’s nothing… .” He pulls out his wallet and slaps a card next to an ashtray. “Look at this.”
We all lean over and inspect David’s card and Price quietly says, “That’s really nice.” A brief spasm of jealousy courses through me when I notice the elegance of the color and the classy type. I clench my fist as Van Patten says, smugly, “Eggshell with Romalian type…” He turns to me. “What do you think?”
“Nice,” I croak, but manage to nod, as the busboy brings four fresh Bellinis.
“Jesus,” Price says, holding the card up to the light, ignoring the new drinks. “This is really super. How’d a nitwit like you get so tasteful?”
I’m looking at Van Patten’s card and then at mine and cannot believe that Price actually likes Van Patten’s better.
Dizzy, I sip my drink then take a deep breath.
“But wait,” Price says. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet…” He pulls his out of an inside coat pocket and slowly, dramatically turns it over for our inspection and says, “Mine.”
Even I have to admit it’s magnificent.
Suddenly the restaurant seems far away, hushed, the noise distant, a meaningless hum, compared to this card, and we all hear Price’s words: “Raised lettering, pale nimbus white…”
“Holy shit,” Van Patten exclaims. “I’ve never seen…”
“Nice, very nice,” I have to admit. “But wait. Let’s see Montgomery’s.”
Price pulls it out and though he’s acting nonchalant, I don’t see how he can ignore its subtle off-white coloring, its tasteful thickness. I am unexpectedly depressed that I started this.
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