There were seven Rembrandt’s with tits waiting for me at the atelier. They told me to take off my clothes and then they tied my hands behind my back. That was a bit awkward and I looked at Eve, but She gave me the oopsy-daisy-forgot-to-mention kinda look. Once my hands were tied, things went downhill rapidly. They clamped my nipples and gagged me. My ankles went in a spreader and my testicles in a humbler. Picasso’s Fiasco, so to speak. I stood there for hours and was not allowed to move an inch. “Move one more time and I will cut off your ear,” one of the Van Gogh’s said. They painted as if Sotheby’s was waiting for them. They took a lot of pictures as well. “You will model for us for as long as we want, or you will go viral on the Internet,” they said. I wasn’t in the best position to argue, so I kept my gag shut. I’m not an idiot, you know. “You’re such an idiot,” Eve said and took another picture.