Imagine being a painting. Just a piece of fabric really, with a bit of red here, a dash of blue there, and a smudge of green hiding in the corner. Nothing fancy, no big deal.

Then, one day, I’m hung up in a fancy gallery. I’m there among these elaborate landscapes and incredibly detailed portraits. And in the middle of all this grandeur, there’s me – as simple as they come. Even the gallery lights seem a bit confused, like they’re asking themselves, “Why are we lighting up this one?”

But then, a man with a fat wallet walks in. He looks at me, tilts his head this way and that, thinking so hard about my simple design.

“Masterpiece,” he says, and you could hear a pin drop. “A work of unparalleled genius,” he continues, and I swear I can hear the oil on canvas next to me stifling a laugh.

And the punchline – he pays a small fortune for me! It’s beyond hilarious! The person who splashed me together could’ve probably done a dozen like me for the price of a good dinner. But here I am, worth more than the finest works in the room.

I look at this man, my buyer, my big spender. Sure, I could call him a fool, but who am I to judge? I’m just a canvas with some paint on it, now worth a king’s ransom. In the grand comedy of art, I’m the unexpected twist. And you know what, that’s what makes it all so wonderfully absurd!