Theoretica

SAN FRANCISCO, CA — In an rare public announcement, Francisco Guzman revealed tonight that he is not sitting at home alone on a Saturday evening thinking about bunnies, rainbows, or anything cute. He also went on to announce that “there is no fucking way I’m going,” referring to the opening party for the new De Young museum. Some onlookers dismissed Mr. Guzman’s chosen words and decibel as deformed self-importance. “Who the fuck cares,” asked Katrina Lardon, a Burlingame resident visiting the city, “I’m just trying to have a good time and get hella fucking ripped with my cousin who’s visting from Fresno.” Framboise Lardon, the alleged cousin retorted immediately, “No, girl. That’s Fres-yes,” and proceeded to throw her arms up into the air, wiggling her hips and silently mouthing “oooh yeah” with her crazily overjoyed suburban mandible. In a show of total solidarity, the women high-fived and complained that Mr. Guzman’s stupid press event was preventing them from getting into Doc’s Clock, a local bar, before the end of happy hour. Speculators close to the source are wondering what kind of art-fag Mr. Guzman actually is since his flat refusal to attend. Due largely to the fact that she is a total bitch, local merchant and supposed-friend Fauna Grubb was quoted as saying, “Every single, eligible art fag is going to be there. What do you mean you’re not going,” calling into question Mr. Guzman’s claims that he is both a gender-invert and a lover of art. “We all know he’s a total fucking fag. I have no idea why he’s playing hard to get,” Ms. Grubb told reporters, “We’re worried that he’s disinterested in his own development.” A spokesman for the hardly-elusive writer, who also happens to be his brother, handed reporters a crumpled and sticky note which the family claims is a legitimate scientific explanation of why he cannot attend the festivities (below). But not everyone is convinced. “This isn’t science, people,” she commented. “This is just another carefully-constructed ploy on his part to be totally lame. Look — he’d rather sit at home playing with Illustrator than go to this party and try to get laid,” she said, pointing to the piece of half-rate home-inkjet-art. When asked to comment on the apparent conflict between his brother and Ms. Grubb, Marco Guzman flatly stated, “Fauna Grubb is what you get when you take a Francisco and strap a twat onto it. I don’t get it,” and proceeded to continue painting his room. Whether Mr. Guzman halts his single-handed, unilateral plan to be lame remains unclear, but what IS clear is that he is not sitting at home thinking about bunnies, rainbows, or anything cute — a claim that even Ms. Grubb’s virulent attack has failed to shake.