As a surprisingly decent sized group of people waited one again for Megan and Leon to arrive to their own exhibition. The smell of mango incense and baby power try desperately to cover up whatever more alarming smell that was present in the dark porn theater screening Blanket Undercover’s supposedly contextual film of debauchery, The Mini Vinnie Bini Video Showcase Vol.3!!. Finally the owner of the theater, inpatient himself, yells from a small window behinds us “They told us to start without ‘em!” What followed was a low quality, camera phone tour of Venice’s “naughtiest” artworks and let me say I’ve seen more sincere debauchery at a weeknight tupperware party. When the film was over Megan and Leon had quietly slinked into a couple of stickly theatre seats arising as if they had been there the whole time. After their talk we continued chatting among the dildos in the lobby where I asked Megan if I could have the six o'clock spot for the van performance on Monday. In which Megan informed me that I have to email her to reserve the slot, in which I informed her that I was not going to do that since I’m standing right in front of her. Of course she signed me up for six o'clock because she knew there is not a lot of people in this world that would risk being alone with Blanket Undercover in a old run down van.

Six o'clock on Monday rolls around and I find myself staring out my front door waiting for Megan and Leon to arrive like a new puppy waiting for its owner to come home from work. At six-thirty I receive a text from Megan “We are on their way.” At seven o'clock as I nodded off I happen to notice a white van pulling up. Stepping out of my house Megan and Leon pop out of the van and Leon domained I crawl into the rear through the hatchback. As the van door opened I was confronted with a mobile highschool girl’s bedroom. Pink blankets line the van interior with animal pillows sprinkled on top. I worried that my neighbors were going to call the cops on me for ordering a thirty minutes or less prostitute delivery or worse they may ask me for the number. Leon barks “Get in and lay down with the cover over you while we light candles.” The door shuts, the mini fires are placed into the cup holders with the flames lapping at the lace hanging for the ceiling. “Close your eyes. Take this rock,” Leon says forcing a stone into my palm “Now hand it Megan.” Once Megan had ahold of the pebble she latches into some overly sentimental story about how she never lived in one place and when she was younger this summer camp gave her a sense of community and it was really sad when she got too old for the camp and something about this symbol and on and on. I’m sure their was some point in there but before I could deciphers the message Megan give me dry rice and Leon says “Now had me the rock.” Snacking the pebble from my hand Leon then latches into her own story about all her friends that came to visit her at her first apartment in Kansas City and how it related to her Paris roommate’s weak fortitude that cause him to have an emotional crutch to a local cafe’s chicken soup. When the talking stop Leon pride my hand open sticking me with an earring in her carelessness as she commanded me to “Hand the rock to Magan.” This whole process repeat several time with one hand filling up with whatever trash they could find laying around the van and the other hand passing that damn rock between the two looming figures above me.

They must have run out of stories or steam but mostly likely they were even more late for their next appointment because before I knew it the two of them were feeding me red M&M’s and dumbing the content of my hand into a glass jar as they told me how I had just experienced Blanket Undercover’s interpretation of Theaster Gates installation Gone are the Days of Shelter and Martyr. They sat me up, snap a selfie with me, blow out the candles, dump me out the back of the van and peel away leave me standing in the street feeling like I’ve either just been laid or tucked in for bed. Walking back into my house I lift the glass jar up to the light to find it filled with three grains of rice, two beans, two pebbles, an earing with no backing and a cat's claw. Lowering the jar I notice a toothy grin plastered to my face making question my own taste in art. If you do not have the money to see Gates installation in person Megan and Leon’s loose interpretation is certainly your economy option. At least the two of them are wise enough to have a parting gift to for your troubles.