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Summary
The owl picked up the painting at a thrift store. He didn’t really seem like the type, but his eyes lit up the moment he saw it. Blitzø thought maybe he bought it as a joke for someone else, but then the owl took it home and put it up on the wall in the middle of his dining room. He stood back with his hands on his hips and smiled all wide at it.
Fucking weirdo.
Whatever. He seemed like an easy target, anyway.
“TADAAAA–ah fuck.”
Blitzø leapt out of the painting and fell flat on his fucking face.
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Or; Blitzø has a job as a sad clown in a painting that is released when people cry in front of him and then he tries to cheer them up but really he just wants them to kill themselves