Take A Picture, It'll Last Longer (OPEN)

Casper hated dresses. He hated dresses and he hated skirts. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He thought they were an awesome gift from the heavens when he saw a pretty girl wearing them, but on his own body they were torture devices. That sentiment needed to be established because what Casper was currently wearing was not a skirt and if anyone claimed it was he was going to sic a shabti on them. No, what the mutant teen was sporting was a black utility kilt. He'd also donned a dark gray woolen vest with a light blue buttoned down shirt and tie. His ankles were feeling the chill, but say what you will Casper knew he could rock a kilt.

Now the question of why he was standing outside a restaurant in a kilt with an easel and his ever present backpack of art supplies had multiple answers. First and foremost eventually he was going to need to use a restroom and/or want something to eat and drink. That was a task much easier to accomplish when all that was required to complete it were the actions of turning around and walking inside. Second was space. He'd briefly toyed with the idea of doing this on the subway platforms, but the sudden fear of being accidentally knocked onto the tracks squashed that thought quickly. Third and most importantly he needed the money. He received a finite amount of cash from his parents every month, but it would take him the better part of the year to save up enough to buy what he wanted if he relied solely on that source of income. 

The quickest way he could think of to get the needed cash was a job. A sixteen year old's options were severely limited though. After a thorough examination of all his skills Casper realized that he had the qualifications for pizza boy, burger flipper, or shopping cart roundup. Those jobs all sucked so he was doing this instead. He'd seen his fair share of artists selling caricatures and was more than confident in his ability to do the same. So far he was doing well. At five bucks a piece he'd already raked in thirty dollars. He'd have that gaming laptop in no time. There was just one wrinkle in this whole gig and it was the gray bird perched atop his easel singing away.

“Would you give it a rest with Lady Gaga!” The parrot shabti had been animated to both draw in customers and keep them entertained while Casper worked. He just wished he could have animated the crazy bird with a shuffle function. The last seven songs the shabti had sang were nothing but Lady Gaga hits and it had just cycled back to Born This Way. The parrot knew those songs because Casper knew them so obviously he enjoyed listening to her music, but seven songs in a row? Seriously? "Fall Out Boy, Marroon 5, or One Republic are your only options for the next half hour."