Masterpiece of Sh**

I thought that my painting was a masterpiece. But the bad critiques of it never ceased. My brother said it was a masterpiece of sh**. I was so upset at him that he got hit. I thought the people who saw it were going to turn into the Incredible Hulk because their faces turned green. When those assholes said that it stunk, I thought they were being mean. When it was being sold at an auction, the people puked. I was so mad that I told them to put up their dukes. But somebody bid on it and I was tickled. I didn't even mind that it sold for a nickel. But then something happened that made me feel ashamed. The buyer didn't want the painting, he wanted the frame. Instead of hanging it over the fireplace, he threw it in the fireplace. Everybody said that it was for the best but I think it was a disgrace. (THIS IS A FICTIONAL POEM.)