Red Handed

I am working on a memorial art project as a tribute to G’s mom who passed away last year.  I find him outside and tell him I need a hand.  To which he begins a slow clap escalating to bravo and well done.

“No, I mean your ACTual hand. I need to paint your right hand red.”

G: “Can’t you use your own hand?”

Me: “It’s for your mom, it should be your hand.”

G: “I have a cut on my right hand.”

Me: “We can put liquid New Skin on it.”  (which he lets me do)

G: “HOLY CRAP THAT BURNS!!! It’s got alcohol in it! …. SMELL THAT!”

It smells like alcohol.

(I know I shouldn’t be laughing but NOW he is gyrating around while swirling his right hand.  When I ask him what he is doing he says;)

“I told you there was alcohol in it, my hand is drunk.”

Look what drunk hands can do!

…”and out of the smoke comes a tall handsome man with a dusty black coat and a red right hand.”  Peaky Blinders theme song.  Been singing it all day

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