Mary looked at the painting Frank had donated to the silent auction and blushed. It was a watercolor depicting Jesus standing behind a naked woman, his arms wrapped around her bare breasts. At the bottom, in red crayon, were the words, “Christ Cares About Cancer.”
“Thank you, Frank,” said Mary, “but we have so many donations already, I don’t know if we’ll be able to use it.”
“Oh,” said Frank. “Well, I guess you can hold onto it, in case you change your mind.” He knew the painting was inappropriate for the church’s breast cancer fundraiser, but, honestly, he didn’t give two tits about cancer. The only reason he’d agreed to donate a painting was because Mary’s dad, a well-known philanthropist, gave out fellowships every year to visual artists. The plan was to get in good with Mary and then kiss up to the old man. But when Frank sat down to paint, he couldn’t find his I Care About Cancer Mask, and all he could come up with was this insulting watercolor.
He surprised himself when he gave Mary the painting, instead of chucking it in the trash. And then he took pleasure in her discomfort as she realized that the woman was reaching behind her, suggesting that this painted Lilith cared very much for Christ.
The following day, Mary left a message on Frank’s voicemail: “Hi Frank, it’s Mary. We sold your painting for $200! Isn’t that great? Anyway, just wanted to thank you for helping raise money for breast cancer. We’ll probably have another event in a few months. I’ll let you know. Thanks again.”
Frank put down the phone and said, before snorting another line of methamphetamine, “I do care about cancer.”
