Paint, Rock, Flourish

During an initial tour of my alma mater, the guide pointed out an unassuming rock, no bigger than a canned ham, half buried, painted blue with a smeared something in white. Greek Societies would tag that small stone under cover of darkness; the unintelligible white mark was the name of the most recent fraternity vandals.

I imagined a few soused idiots crouching round their target, armed with paint and brushes; the job was too neat for simply pouring on paint. After these Rembrandts worked in blue, the leader did the white detail, finishing with a flourish.

It was all underwhelming.