This is why we can't have nice things...

... because even the evil things get filched. Case in point, this wonderful piece of yard art that was among the first things I purchased (from Ancient Excavations, a shop run by artist/artizan Goran on Queen Street East) to adorn our back deck in the then-new house in Leslieville:

As I am sure you will all agree, it is quite lovely. I positioned it on the dividing wall of our back-yard deck, to provide it with a good view of the notably gargoyle-free church next door.

And there it hung, my one-or-two-of-a-kind piece of plaster yard art, for ten years, nearly -- dissolving oh-so-slowly in the elements and soaking up the unambiguous glares of the faithful across the alley-way, as it glared back.

Ten years it took, to find a creature more evil than my yard art.

But find one we did. One night recently (maybe the night before last), some drooling slope-browed troll stole onto our back deck, and... well, stole Goran's magnificent hell skull.

Leaving only this:


Now, when I say drooling slope-browed troll, I do not do so affectionately. Oh no, little son/daughter/spawn of Leslieville, wherever you and my yard art are squatting, you are not the kind of spittle-chinned, chair-humping bridge-ape we'll throw some old meat to every equinox because we understand you to be harmless and endearing. There is no love between you and us.

You see, as rents went up on Queen Street East, Goran and his magnificent shop of plaster art vanished into the night, and Goran's fine hell-skull crafting hands are nowhere to be found in Leslieville. So while I don't think we paid more than $50 for the magnificent, notably missing yard art, I suspect we won't be able to replace it with any ease.

And what yard art it was. We will miss it -- in the way that it has, I hope, informed the dreams and nightmares of our pious neighbours --



-- and in the manner in which it has inspired some of the most energetically awful H.P. Lovecraft fan art that I've ever set to hard drive.


So, troll boy (or girl -- dribbling, crook-toothed bog-dwellers don't just come in boy), enjoy Goran's hell skull.

And don't mind the curse. It can't make your dating prospects any worse than they undoubtedly are right now.