the works of monsieur baptiste

One 

Artist monsieur baptiste sat in his studio, in the background, heavy opera was playing, dressed in the ruffled shirt and powdered wigs very prominent at the time, he looked at the picture of fashion, he selected a small brush, and carefully began to get to work.  He was a small, delicate looking man, however he had eyes like steel and was brutally honest. One of the oddest things of his works were that they were all painted in complete darkness, he said this was how he truly found himself  “communing with the paint” and he was also very superstitious of this, if, he said if you were to paint in light, angels themselves would bless his work, then he would not be able to have the…er….trademark flourish in his paint he usually did, as he neared finishing the piece, he sighed in happiness, thinking of the great good it will do the country, with all these revolutionaries uprising, it seemed they had the power, but monsieur baptiste was in charge of taking down these revolutionaries, and his paintings would do just that.

Just then, footsteps came slamming down the stairs to his studio, he heard words like

“Ready your guns! He's a madman!” and “he's down here Gabriel!” 

Seemingly in no hurry or strife,baptiste simply glanced at a painting nearby, one of a large eye with the retinas bulging 

“Oho!” he said, his high, falsetto voice echoing in the chamber  he tugged on his curly mustache

“Oho!” he said again. The reason, for which he had  said this was a good one, coming down the stairs at this moment was exactly what he needed: a band of revolutionaries, some of those radical Jacobins, no doubt here to arrest him and perhaps send him to the guillotine. 

Immediately a  fist was heard banging on the door    

“MONSIEUR BAPTISTE! YOU ARE HEREBY ARRESTED FOR WAR CRIMES AND INHUMANE MURDER!  OPEN THIS DOOR IMMEDIATELY”

Taking care to NOT open the door, baptiste made a few more flourishes on the canvas before making a sigh of pleasure, then picking up the painting, he walked to the door and aimed it so it was facing the door, then he said in a singsong tone 

“Come in, monsieurs!”, and pointing at the door, the lock cracked free with a popping noise, and the revolutionaries came roaring into the room,  guns aimed dead at monsieur baptiste’s  heart 

But then they saw the painting 

Their fingers tightened on the trigger, but they didn't shoot, they simply began to scream

Horrible, loud screams

They began to twitch and writhe, smashing around the studio, they scream again and again, clawing at their eyes. fluid began to drip down from their sockets, as their eyes began to dissolve, and the screaming began to quiet as they fell to their knees, then their chests, then, they simply died 

Baptiste now stood over four dead bodies of the revolutionaires, he smiled happily, then kissed his painting, after pulling away, he set it with the others

The painting was now in full view, with the light cast over it.

It was a picture of a man, with his eyes slowly melting, a look of agony contorted his face

And monsieur baptiste smiled, proud of his work

A man would arrive tomorrow, to take them away, to put them to work against the revolution. 

A revolution that would soon fall

All due to the works of monsieur baptiste.  

Two

The works would go to the cities, they would be hung in the art galleries, and all over the cities as propaganda of the royalists,  and people, would look, they would come from all over to see his “propaganda” 

But it wasn't propaganda, these were objects of war, when the revolutionaires saw these works of art, they would die, in a plethora of ways, they could die from seeing things. Perhaps their heart exploding? Or maybe  their eyes melting, like we saw in the demonstration made by monsieur baptiste, or maybe they would just keel over, like they had been struck down. Whatever the way, it was sure to kill you.

At this very moment, monsieur baptiste was currently heading toward paris by buggy, in the back? Several of his prized works, he wanted to see them in action and was prepared for any attack, under the folds of his shirt, he held a small flintlock pistol  for emergencies, but other than that, he had little other protection.

But he was ready for anything, for concealed inside the buggy with him were four of his prized works, the ones we referred to earlier, and these ones were doozies, they could do many horrible things to someone,  and so he was ready, ready even when the revolutionaries came out of the bushes.

They charged down the hill, one fired a shot that blew the drivers head right open sending spills of blood over the seats, when they reached the buggy, they quickly threw open the door, monsieur baptiste recoiled in horror.

They were wearing blindfolds, they must have put them on while running down the hill, and with  blindfolds, they couldn't see the work of art he was showing them

“Now now boys” he trilled in falsetto, once again “ why won't you look at my art? Its quite rude, eh?”

“You are under arrest baptiste” one said, aiming his gun somewhat in his direction close enough it would wound, but not kill.

The artist tut-tutted  and then reached forward, and tapped the  one soldier who had spoken  on the forehead with a beautifully manicured nail, 

Immediately he fell forward, his head slamming the wood of the door and he fell to the floor. Dead

“ALAIN! ALAIN ARE YOU OK?” one frenchman yelled 

“Quiet peasant!” monsieur baptiste snapped “I simply melted his brain, not that there was much to work with”

Immediately the soldiers turned and ran, right back up the hill, and away into the bush

So the monsieur baptiste made his journey, and he reached Paris within a day or two. He then, upon entering the city. Set up his works of art.

All around france, soon people were dying, art was no longer trusted, if you saw a painting, ANY painting, you shut your eyes and made the cross. As for monsieur baptiste, he found his homage in the new king's court.

To this day, the number of deaths  of the painting massacre is unknown, but an estimated 15,000 deaths in the span of a day was expected.

France was decimated, and the king rose back to power.

All thanks to the works of monsieur baptiste