I awakened to find several of Dali’s ants crawling over my bare chest, and one of his fish was squirming beneath my pillow. So the first thing I did was fill the bathtub with water and put the fish into it. Then, as I was about to brush away the ants, there was a knock at the front door.
Looking through the peephole I immediately saw that it was Salvador himself, dressed like a traditional Scotsman, and he was holding a package in his hand. Playing like I didn’t know who he was, I said, “How may I help you?” And putting the package in my hands, he said, “It’s a gift from our mother. Open it right away!”
Closing the door I went into the kitchen and used a knife to open the box. There inside was a painting of me, Salvador, and an unfamiliar older woman, the three of us sitting on tired-looking burros, and in the background were some of Dali’s signature symbols like crosses, disconnected body parts, and melted timepieces. Nothing seemed out of place except for the fact that I was missing two front teeth and had a buzz-style haircut.
The painting was signed by Dali, which I knew would make it very valuable.
I had it framed, and subsequently sold it for a great deal of money.
Unfortunately, as hard as I’ve tried to get rid of the ants, they always remain.