Stick Figures

Louis Dali, a stubble beard man, passed by beautiful, portrait paintings with his head down and his eyes fixed on his scribbled cartoon drawings. Andy Hanson, a gallery employee, who wore a suit and glasses, spotted Louis and exhaled.

Andy received the cartoon art, which had coffee stains on every paper, but as he flipped through, there was a doodle of Louis scowling and stomping on the ground.

Louis said, “So, what do you think?”

Andy said, “I shall not buy these. They lack passion, and they’re rushed as if you did it this morning.”

Andy returned the drawings, and Louis frowned.

Louis said, “You blind? Passion leaks through my art. Didn’t you see the sharp edges? The cartoon’s faces?

Andy said, “I saw only a man trying to make a quick buck.”

Andy lifted a framed drawing, and the imaged showed a long-haired stick figure with a sad face. In the artwork, the stick figure drew on a paper that was on an easel and strings were attached to its limbs. Above it was cartoon gloves that held a wooden crossbar with strings attached to it.

As Andy pointed at the long-haired stick figured, he said, “A shame he’s gone. I’d say if you put effort like Paul, you’d succeed like him.”

Louis glared at the drawing and stomped out of the gallery.

It was late at night in Louis’ den. The wallpaper in the house drooped from the cracked walls and cardboard covered a broken window. Louis sat next to a table by an old, torn couch while murmuring and aggressively drawing cartoon images of himself burning, tearing, and ripping Paul’s artwork.

Many crushed papers fell from his table onto the worn down floor, and he shouted and grabbed the paper balls, slinging many of them into the wall. A ball slammed into a framed photograph, and it smashed into the floor. Louis breathed hard and stepped toward the broken glass, which showed a cabin in the woods.

Louis remembered when he was in Paul’s kitchen, sitting on a stool by a marble counter and tapping his fingers while holding the photo of the cabin. In Paul’s house, he hung some of his stick figure art on the wall.

Paul, a long-haired man with a winter coat, spoke to Louis, who wasn’t attentive because of a new drawing resting on the surface. It was an image of four smiling stick figures on a tropical beach, and two wore sunglasses while the others drunk on a boat.

Louis said, “Why don’t you go back? Your masterpieces remain at the cabin. Wouldn’t you want to show them off?”

Paul said, “Hey man, did you check out the new Jaguar car I bought?”

Louis’ fingers tapped faster on the counter. “I’m asking you about the cabin.”

“What? Oh, that. Don’t worry about it, man. Now, I was thinking of taking my new car on a trip. Maybe--”

Louis slammed his hand on the counter. “I don’t care about your plans. You’re avoiding this place. Why?”

Paul paused. Then he gulped. His fingers moved his long hair, and he said, “Hey, man, those woods are strange. It’s ... too hard to navigate.” Paul shivered as he held himself tight. “Man, I could get lost again or even hunted ... by wolves.”

Louis scowled at him. Paul looked down as his hands trembled while he gripped his coat.

Louis said, “Do you take me for a fool? They’re no wolves there. That’s as absurd as your stick figure art.” Louis stood up, and his stool tipped over. “I’m tired of hearing about your stupid art and life. They don’t talk about me. Only you.” Louis kicked the stool. “You have everything while I live in a home with rats as my roommates.” Louis huffed and puffed.

Paul said, “I’m sorry I’ve made you feel this way, man. But it’s not as great as I’ve made it sound.”

Louis grabbed Paul’s drawing of the happy stick figures on the tropical beach. “Not as great? Could’ve fooled me. This is how I feel about your life.”

Louis pulled a pencil from his pocket, and he scribbled and erased parts of the artwork. Paul shrieked, and Louis ripped the paper in half causing it to float to the floor.

Paul said, “What have you done to them, man?”

Louis stomped out of the kitchen, and Paul knelt near his torn drawings of sad stick figures while his tears dropped on the paper. That was the last time Louis saw Paul.

In the day time, Louis walked in the woods and stepped deeper onto a trail, but his shoes crunched on something on the ground. They were used up markers. There were also trees with paper stapled to the bark and the papers had cartoon eyes. Louis said, “He’s dead, yet his presence still aggravates me.”

He walked past the trees, and the pupils of the cartoon eyes changed to Louis’ direction. A cell phone and clothing laid in the dirt, and Louis lifted the low battery phone. The text message read: Something’s following and trying to blend in with our group.

As the phone shut down, Louis rolled his eyes and walked past the clothing. Behind Louis, something stood, and its cartoon glove touched the bark of a tree.

Louis entered the cabin and passed by the dusty tables, chairs, and a television. While searching through shelves and cabinets, something caught his eye. There were photos of Paul marked with ink, and he had a drawn mustache, glasses, a top hat, and other insulting drawings. As he chuckled, he spotted a rubber hose style cartoon of a smiling wolf holding a marker on most of the pictures.

Inside the cabin’s living room and from the window, the sun sank toward the horizon. Louis sat down near an unlit fireplace, and his hand gripped his hair. All the furniture had been turned and moved, and the cabinets and doors were left open. Frowning, Louis lifted his head to the wall where a carved stick figure was drawn, which had a speech bubble that read: You shouldn’t be here.

Louis stood up and said, “Shut up. Don’t tell me what I can’t do. Don’t you convict me.” He grabbed a screwdriver and scratched the image. “He’s a dead rich man and no longer needs the money. It’s mine. You hear. Mine!” He slammed the screwdriver on the floor and breathed intensely. The screwdriver rolled on a trap door, but as Louis walked toward it, he was unaware that the face of the scratched stick figure changed. Its mouth gaped, and its eyes were wide open.

Louis walked downstairs into a basement, and the room was dim and empty, but he noticed something leaning on the wall. It was three framed, rubber hose cartoon drawings, and Louis ran to it, grinning and examining them. The first image was of an upright lamb, who stood in the center near a group of farm animals, but on the far left was a wolf. The wolf’s arms were crossed, and it glared at the lamb.

In the second drawing, the lamb stood in front of an audience while two strong bulldogs dragged the angry wolf away, but the third was different. The last artwork had the frighten lamb standing behind a prison as a monstrous shadow displayed on the wall.

Louis pulled a pencil from his pocket and erased Paul’s signature. He then wrote his name on the artwork.

Paul’s voice then shouted, “You fool. Why are you here, man? What have you done?”

The lights brightened, and lots of stick figures covered the wall as many groans engulfed the basement.

Other voices said, “Get out! Doodles will take your ghost to his world. Run. He’s coming. Get out!”

Louis trembled as he stared at the stick figures terrified facial expressions. The hangman drawings, rack torture devices, and saw blades destroyed the stick figures. Some drawn bodies laid in a pile and limbs were scattered.

Louis’ eyes then spotted a wolf cartoon frowning and smiling as he used the torture devices and chased the stick figures. In another image, the wolf flung the heads of the stick figures into bowling pins.

Suddenly, the lights flickered, and the door slammed. Doodles, a being who wore a mask with a drawn happy face and had on cartoon gloves, entered the room with a mallet. A knocked out stick figure’s face displayed on the mallet’s flat surfaces.

Louis’ eyes bulged. He grabbed the drawings and sprinted away into a hallway. The walls showed images of stick figures running in the same direction as Louis. Doodles’ cartoon voice echoed and said, “Oh boy, I’ve got another one.”

Louis ran toward another exit, but Doodles appeared from a corner. Louis accidentally dropped the artworks on the floor. Doodles skipped toward him with his mallet. Its cartoon laughs echoed as Louis fumbled the artworks and sprinted back to the basement. Louis raced up the stairs toward the entrance and Doodles’ cartoon wolf image covered the door and taunted him.

From the hallway, Doodles said, “I smell fresh meat.”

Louis breathed hard as he pushed and hit the door. It didn’t open.

“You won’t escape,” said Doodles. It appeared from the hallway and walked toward him with his mallet.

Louis slammed his fist into the door. The door flung open, and he shut it and ran away while Doodles banged on the door. The cartoon gloves then peaked from the doorway.

Louis entered inside the art gallery with his backpack and headed toward the counter where Andy stood. Louis said, “Andy, this time I’ve got something surprising. Here take a look.”

Andy sighed and shook his head.

Louis reached for a framed drawing and showed Andy.

Andy frowned as he looked at the blank artwork. He said, “Oh dear, Louis? Why don’t you stop wasting my time?”

Louis examined the framed artwork and gasped. “I must’ve misplaced them. Wait. Just give me a second. I promise they’re legit masterpieces.” Louis searched his portfolio, and his drawings fell out.

Andy spotted the art on the paper, which was a scribbled cartoon drawing of Louis stomping on the ground, and on his face was a well-drawn happy face mask. Andy said, “This is remarkable. Wow, I’d say I think you’ve finally done it.”

People walk toward Andy and starred in awe of Louis’ drawings. A man spoke to Louis, ” This is outstanding. I must have this and others. I’m willing to buy this beautiful work of art.” More people came to buy the drawing and argued over it.

Louis scratched his head and grinned, but as he looked at the commotion, he squinted and noticed black ink on his arms. He turned them and saw a drawn cartoon lamb.

It was night at Louis’ home, and he washed his arms in the sink in the bathroom, but the cartoon lamb didn’t erase. Louis entered his den as his body shivered, and he grabbed a heavy winter coat. He sat on his torn couch and listened to a voice mail from an art collector who wanted to buy his drawings.

An empty food can smacked on the floor and rolled. Louis turned his head and saw a pencil and piece of paper on his table. Louis stepped toward it, and his eyes widen.

In the drawing, Doodles the wolf stood near an empty grave. It held a clock, and there was an image of Paul’s shivering ghost trembling inside an ice cube that’s was near Doodles.

Louis sweated and someone giggled in his home. He then spotted a cloth on the table covering his signature. Louis turned the cloth inside out, and it was Doodles’ smiling drawn mask.

Louis dropped the masks, and he breathed quickly while his body shook. A monstrous shadow then displayed on his wall.