Okay, buddy, what sort of person writes "965 pieces" inside of a puzzle box? What? you couldn't take another second to write complete or not complete? You even misspelled piece as "peice."
You miserable bastard.
This here is a Master Pieces puzzle with those crazy shaped pieces. Therefore I know that although the box says 1000 pieces, there may not be exactly 1000 pieces in this puzzle.
Thus far I have constructed the woman in her entirety: her angled elbow, sheathed in red, her clinging gown and her back, with the man's arm draped around it in a way that fills me with a longing ache for everyone who has lost something they'll never find again. I've competed the man's face, wondering when he might finally nuzzle his lover's neck and inhale, wondering how she would feel as his body inflated with breath in her arms.
Yes, I have googled "singing butler puzzle'" only to discover that Ravensburger has a version of this painting and that my 37¢ Master Pieces rendition is incomplete from the get go. A portion of the original artwork is not included--I do not have the maid and her satchel.
Frankly, dear individual, I don't want the maid. I am wholly content with my truncated trio and their frozen moment, which I will eventually reconstruct one oddly shaped bit of cardboard at a time, all 965 of them, whether it completes the image or not.
Look, I'm sorry I called you a miserable bastard. You're not. In fact, you've imbued this singing butler with mystery. And if the sky above them is riddled with 35 holes, it will be that much better. It will erase some of the disappointment that washed over me when I clicked the Wiki link for The Singing Butler and discovered the painting is not very old and has been reproduced on everything from posters to greeting cards. So what? None of those singing butlers have the intrigue that this one possesses. Our singing butler is different.
You know what? I like the way you spelled pieces.
And I like that you counted all 965 of them. Perhaps you are compelled to count the pieces of every puzzle you construct and note said count on the inside of the box. Or maybe you didn't count the pieces. Maybe you constructed our flawed beauty (after buying it for a dollar at a garage sale) and counted 35 holes, lost diamonds. Either way I understand your poetry.
Let's dance beneath a sky full of holes. To hell with the rest of the world.
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