Ansel slolwy lifted his right arm and casually brought his head to the dingy white cotton of his tshirt. He sniffed, or merely, he snorted.

His face cringed. He strangely reeked of barbequed salmon and calomine lotion. Not that he had been rolling around in either of the two, but somehow, the smell was spreading.

Ansel was starting to worry.

He had been waiting in Soho for nearly an hour for his latest, and probably not the last job interview. He had come from his latest gig, of still life modeling for a sculpting class. He always found sculpture rather boring, and preffered to be captured on canvas. Besides, the clay smelled awful.

He brushed off a few dried flakes of mud from his wrist, and suddenly realized where the smell was coming from, and regretted not taking a shower beforehand.

He looked up to see a woman wearing an Andy Warhol banana tshirt saunter towards him looking sulkily in his direction, yet nodding approvingly.

Ansel hoped this wasn’t a modern art scratch-and-sniff job.