Gloggo the artist was praised worldwide for his excellent color sense and above above above average abilities in the “figure this stuff out that’s inside my head” department. People could feel secure in the knowledge that this genius touched something deep within them which had previously been unspoken for. No other artist before or since had ever enjoyed such a faithful following. Some regarded him amongst the Gods, but to such sentiments Gloggo would only laugh — not a mocking, “you’re stupid, go home and wash your undies,” sort of laugh, but a simple, almost… grandfatherly laugh. A laugh hinting at all-encompassing wisdom that sank to the very depths of the Earth and stretched to Heaven’s high arches. It was a laugh that said, “I’ll explain it to you later, when you’re a little older,” and Santa Claus himself couldn’t have improved upon its mild air of gentleness.

Gloggo only worked with chickens — that is, chickens were his canvas, chickens were his clay, chickens were his paint. Not live chickens, mind you, and certainly not the pale, cold, lifeless chickens found at any common poultry market. No. Gloggo employed the use of a special, particle-boardesque mixture of chicken known as “Chickenshnitzl.” He had invented it himself as a young artist after the war, and had stood by it as his only artistic medium ever since.

His last work was entitled “Le gout est juste comme bebe Jesus,” and it took up fifteen city blocks upon completion. Several favored national landmarks had to be leveled to make way for this masterpiece, but it was only France, so who cares?

It was a very challenging task to keep the pigeons away from the sculpture before its shellac finish could be applied, but the toil involved was to pay off. Since it was done in France, it was greatly approved of that Gloggo chose to do this particular piece as a nude (the sculpture itself and Gloggo while he was creating it).

Yes. The end result was a five-hundred-thousand-ton statue of a naked Mary holding aloft the Christ child as if ready to hurl him into an awaiting can of baked beans. Substituted in place of standard features were the grimacing heads of chickens, appearing simultaneously angry and enlightened in typical Gloggo fashion.

Any other artist would have been excommunicated and exiled for creating what would normally have been labeled as blasphemous. Instead, the Pope himself arrived at the unveiling to present Gloggo with the coveted “Christ’s Most Nifty Disciple of the Year” trophy and congratulations on an important Christian job well-done.

This being his crowning, glorious masterpiece, one wonders what further marvels Mr. Gloggo could have graced the world with had he not perished during a freak earthquake two weeks later in Lawrence, Kansas.

Gloggo succeeded in leaving behind a number of great works to be enjoyed for generations of humankind to come. Alas, Gloggo’s genius is certainly missed the world over, as is the lost recipe for the creation of the ever-elusive… Chickenschnitzl.

[Photo by Tom Waterhouse]

About Robert Glen Fogarty

Sometimes I'll take the wrong bus just to get out of the cold for a little while.

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