Gary glued a disco ball to a toaster, then sat back to admire his ‘modern art masterpiece.’ His cat, Socks, yawned, tail flicking paint onto the canvas. ‘Not now, furball,’ Gary hissed, duct-taping a rubber chicken to a bicycle wheel. Socks leapt, knocking over a jar of glitter. It sprayed like a unicorn sneeze. Gary screamed, ‘MY INSTALLATION!’ as Socks buried himself in the sparkle pile. The next day, neighbors gathered. ‘Is that a commentary on consumerism?’ asked Mrs. Pritchett, staring at the glittery chicken-toaster. Gary shrugged, licking glue off his thumb. ‘It’s… textured.’ Socks meowed, pawing a strand of yarn into the mix. The crowd gasped. ‘GENIUS!’ they yelled. Gary blinked. ‘Wait… is that a cat in the sculpture?’ Socks blinked back, tail curled around a used soup can. The art world called. Gary sold it for $500. Socks slept through the auction.
