MASTERPIECE #3157

/// Julius Paulsen was throwing a party.
He’s a painter, so guests expect arty.
“Gourmet food, wines to drink,
and nude models, I’d think.”
thought Prof. Brainard, (a certified smarty).

/// But when guests arrived, none were acquainted.
Meager food, so a few nearly fainted.
Conversation was dull;
small talk then a long lull.
They’re invited to pose and be painted.

/// Despite being for decades espoused,
guests arrived without wives (and aroused).
Every guest was a man,
save one child and one Gran.
This can’t be how the smart-set caroused.

/// “We were told there’s a stripper here?” “Yes, sir,”
Paulsen answered the downcast Professor.
“But you misunderstood,
this one strips paint from wood.
He’s upstairs right now, stripping my dresser.”

/// No eye contact was made there that day.
They were lost in deep thoughts of dismay.
Each mused, “Must get away!”
Not a word did they say.
Then the girl dropped her china-filled tray.