OOPS!

by

kee

Thursdays were always dull, routine, go-through-the-motions kinds of days. Buzz was walking the galleries of the museum, making physical checks of the climatic controls that kept the temperature and humidity at pre-established levels. He was actually thinking about the beers with the guys after work, when a "dong, dong, dong" went
reverberating through the galleries. Buzz made note of the sound because it was the first time he’d ever heard it in this building.
Gus, a museum guard, came by, heel-and-toeing-it just short of a trot. He passed Buzz without even a sign of recognition as he headed into the Van Gogh exhibit. That was Buzz’s next stop, so he picked up his pace and followed along. Against a broad green wall there was a small gaggle of squawking museum visitors who, when Gus appeared, started pointing at an ornate frame in which there was a blank space in the middle. The canvas was exposed.
"Oh, there it is," cried Gus. "In Restoration, they’ve been looking all over for Vincent’s frame. He’s down there for a peel and a tuck. Someone must have put his frame on the return cart." As Gus shouldered his way through the crowd to remove the painting from the wall, he started a tirade of tangential comments about security, personal commitments, attentiveness, loyalty to one's job and employer. With painting in hand, Gus laid on a generous helping of gratitude for finding and reporting Vincent’s frame.
Buzz was standing at the entry to the gallery. This time Gus noted his presence with a nod and a "Hi Buzz" as he hustled by. However, Gus turned in the wrong direction to get to Restoration.
Buzz caught up. "What’s up? What’s with that truckload of crap you were feeding those fine people? You know you’re going in the wrong direction?"
"I have to check something first." Gus glanced behind to make sure none of the patrons were following before he entered another room. He ducked around the corner to stand in front of another of Van Gogh’s paintings, "Girl in White."
"Here, hold this," said Gus as he shoved the Van Gogh frame into Buzz’s hands. Carefully, Gus scanned the whole room, including the ceiling. Then he gently raised the painting of the girl away from the wall to inspect the back of the painting and the wall itself.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Vincent has been trying to make out with this gal. He usually goes visiting at night when no one is around."
"What?"
"She keeps rejecting him. You’d think he’d get the word after all this time."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"You asked. I’m just trying to tell ya."
"Let’s start again. You have a painting….well, I’ve got it now…and part of it is gone. And don’t tell me it’s in Restoration. I know how they work. What’s happening?"
"We don’t know how he does it, but old Vincent periodically leaves his frame and goes on[?] walkabout. Oh, oh, here comes someone. Give me that. Let’s go to security."
Gus turned the face of the painting to his chest and started out at a brisk, purposeful pace that didn’t invite any random questions from the museum patrons. In route, they passed a couple of other guards, who raised their eyebrows. All Gus said was, "Keep looking."
The pair marched straight to the Security Supervisor’s office. Since Gus had his hands full, he nodded for Buzz to get the door. Gus’s boss, Karl Klingstoffer, was at his desk.
"Did you find him?"
"No. There’s no sign he went to see the "Girl in White." She usually has her nose turned up a bit if Vincent shows up, but not now. He must have some new interest somewhere else."
"It must be a hot one to leave during the day."
Klingstoffer turned his attention to Buzz as Gus stood the painting against the wall. "What are you doing here?"
Gus broke in. "This is Buzz. He was there when I picked up the blank canvas. He works for CRT. He’s the one who controls the temps and humidity. Buzz gets into a lot of places we never see. Maybe he can watch for Vincent."
"That might be helpful."
"Just what am I supposed to look out for?" said Buzz
"That’s a self-portrait by Vincent Van Gogh. Occasionally, his head, shoulders and thumb that sticks through the palette hole disappear. As you see, all that’s left is the background paint and the palette and brushes. The canvas shows through where the image should be."
"How the hell is that possible?"
"We have no idea. We’ve brought in scientists, mediums, witch doctors, fakirs…. you name it. No one has an explanation that any reasonable mind can accept."
"What is the chain of events?"
"Usually, someone notices he’s gone. This normally happens at night or when the museum is closed. Sometimes we find the missing paint plastered on a wall next to whoever attracted his attention. Usually it’s a girl. An attractive girl. Generally, by morning he is back were he belongs.
"When he does this during the day, it creates a real problem. We have to get the painting out of public sight so there is no speculation that a priceless Van Gogh had been damaged or stolen. Even worse would be to have the story of his wandering about get out to the media. What a field day they would have at our expense.
"If we find him stuck on the floor or wall we have to close off that gallery so the public can’t see in. We put his frame in the vicinity, and when he’s ready, he’ll reattach himself."
"There aren’t many pictures of good looking girls in the crawl spaces I inhabit around here."
"We don’t know how he gets from point A to point B," said Gus. "We’ve found him in closets and bathrooms."
"Girls' bathrooms?" asked Buzz.
"Oh, boy," said Klingstoffer. "I think you’re right. I’ll have to check."
"Well, if I run into him, what do I do?"
"Tell a guard," said the Supervisor. "Keep this under your hat. I can do without the circus that would result."
Buzz headed back on his rounds, but he didn’t come across any hooky-playing painter.
Normally, Buzz was on other duties on Fridays, but he couldn’t resist stopping by the museum to see if Van Gogh had returned. When he wheeled around the corner into the Van Gogh exhibit he found the self-portrait back in its usual spot with the maestro gazing at him with his blue eyes. Buzz had seen the painting on dozens of occasions, but he’d never really studied it. This time he stepped directly in front for a closer look. Buzz had always considered Vincent to be a rather pathetic figure, lost in his own insanity. After all, he’d sliced his ear off and later committed suicide.
However, after he studied the image for a bit, Buzz got the distinct impression that dear old Vincent Van Gogh was smirking.
In order to rationalize the trip to the museum, Buzz went down to CRT’s little hole-in-the-wall office, to tidy up some paperwork for the monthly report. While pushing papers, he opened the door of the cabinet over the desk so he could see a picture that a friend had sent him over the internet. Buzz had made a glossy print to liven the office. It was a photo of two nude girls, obviously twins in all respects. They were seated side-by-side at the edge of the wet sand on a beach. Their reddish blond hair was wet and plastered at the back of their heads. They were leaning back against their arms, knees flexed and feet apart. The shot was taken from slightly above and to the right showing their well endowed chests and their slender forms. Their eyes were downcast to the sand between their spread legs. Both had the same neutral expression .
Buzz spent a few moments wondering why he was never lucky enough to come across any girls with such stunning attributes. And, there wasn’t a tattoo or piercing in sight.
On the following Thursday, Buzz made it a point to find Gus.
"How’s your wandering painter?"
Gus gave him a glum look. We’ve had to take the painting down. Every time you turn around, he’s gone—during the days too. To make things worse, he naked. He’s leaving his shirt and jacket in the frame."
"Have you found the object of his affections?"
"No, we’ve staked out every female painting in the place.
"How about the powder rooms?" said Buzz with a smile.
"Yeah, we’ve got the women on potty patrol just like at the junior high schools."
"Well, good luck. If I see old, horny Vincent I’ll let you know."
Buzz finished his rounds and ended up in his office to record his findings. He opened the cupboard door to get another look at his honeys. Something seemed different. He kept glancing up until he realized the girls seemed to have lost their neutral expressions and were looking up with a slight smile on their faces. Or at least that is what Buzz’s imagination was telling him. The building must be spooking him. He closed the cabinet and headed back to CRT.
As time passed the museum lapsed back to its normal routine, since Vincent only occasionally went wandering and usually at night. Buzz took his vacation and when he returned he was temporarily assigned to the initial equipment installation on another project.
It was several months before Buzz returned to his normal routine at the museum. He had forgotten about his girls on the cabinet door until he needed a reference book. The picture gave him a shock. Both girls were definitely smiling and both were obviously pregnant.
Buzz called security and had Gus sent down to the CRT office. When Gus arrived, Buzz asked, Did you ever identity Vincent’s new love interest?"
"No. We caught him peeping a couple of times, but we figured that was just a diversion. After all, he’s been cooped up in that painting for decades."
"Look at this." Buzz swung the cabinet open. "When I pinned that photo up there….about the time Vincent started disappearing….those gals were anything but pregnant. I wish I had the original print, but I deleted the file months ago. Have you any suggestions?"
"Not me. I’ll take it up with the boss, but I already know the answer. The museum is just about to begin a huge expansion campaign for the new wing. That involves the government, the corporate world, the stud-horse aristocracy, the religious community, plus the unwashed masses. Pregnant photo images don’t fit into that scheme of things. I’d suggest you keep that cabinet door closed."
Week-by-week, Buzz watched the bellies grow. Time was getting short. The next Thursday, Buzz got a funny feeling as soon as he walked in the museum door. The feeling stuck with him as he was making his rounds. When he got to the Van Gogh collection, he detoured to look at the self-portrait. That was definitely a smirk on the painter’s face. Buzz reversed directions, making for his office. When he flung the cabinet door open, his only comment was "Oops." His set of twins were now sitting cross-legged on the sand nursing two obviously boy babies. Both mothers were smiling contentedly.