Wow,who is that sexpot holding up the world over there , he is hot. Oh, I do love a Manly Man

I looked up and there standing tall, dashing, refined, buff was Mr. Atlas, who guards Rock Center, day and night. He looks like the type who would not be phased by a few sexually depraved Skellys. And what a kit he has on him.

“Hey, Jimmy,( well that is what we always say in Glasgow if we address a man.) Mr. Atlas, you up there balancing the world on your shoulders, have you got a minute. (All he does is stand around all day looking fit and strong so the answer must surely be yes). Yes you, it is the SP, down here, the beautiful one, you know me, the one everyone loves.”

“No loitering in the lobby, sir. Mam, the observation deck is on the 50th floor. Hey you laddie, no drawing on my pedestal please, it is public property. Mam, can’t you control your son. Princess or whoever you are, can’t you see I am busy? I can’t take these crowds they are driving me crazy, as soon as the tree goes up my job becomes a total nightmare. You move along, young man. Yes I will be in a picture with you, of course. Jesus, this is the only fun part of my job.” Growled Mr. Atlas, and he seemed none too pleased to talk to me either.

“You are working here I thought you just stood around balancing the world and basically you were art and that was it. Poor you, you must be exhausted, can I get you a cup of tea?” I smiled endearingly, “We Princesses can do a good turn now and then for our loving and loyal subjects ,who of course go back to Grecian times.”

“Look, Missy, cut the princess gag, I see royalty all the time and famous folks and prime ministers and the whole kit and caboodle and basically they just annoy me so if you are a princess and you sure don’t look like one, save it for someone else.

I am not in the mood. Since the whole financial fiasco Bloomberg passed a decree that all the public art pieces have to actually work and do something useful and help save the city money and I got lumbered with a Security job. I get $7 an hour at least but the hours are awful, 24/7. So far I have caught some kids defacing the angels and a dog peeing on the flowers but nothing exciting, no terrorists or real action where I could show my prowess and strength off.” Mr. Atlas, moaned, pausing to wipe the sweat from his brow even though it was 27 degrees and freezing outside.

“Ahah, I said, “ I have a mission for you. You can help your fellow art exhibits in Soho, who are at risk of sexual molestation this very night. Come closer.”

I tiptoed up to him and whispered the whole Skelly Revolution story in his ear. He kept nodding and frowning and seemed very earnest until I came to the last part. “ Yes, and we must rescue them all and stop the Skellys before they take over our dear Big Apple. A guy like you is what is needed as I cannot find my Super Blue Jew anywhere, he was last spotting eating latkes and doughnuts at a Chanukah party. Are you in? “

Mr. Atlas seemed very excited at the prospect of a real project. Now all we have to do is figure out how he can leave his post, as he has not moved in about 80 years or something like that. Anyone have any ideas, please post your comments now!

I started walking and just kept going and the next thing I knew I was standing bang in front of the world famous magnificent Christmas Tree at Rock Center, 5th Ave.

It was so beautiful. My girlfriend's fiancée proposed there last week, the night before the office party. So I stood under it hoping some love vibes might come my way. The place was full of tourists, real tourists, not human prisoners with yellow star permits, like those blasted Skelly's want us to be.

I sat down and put my head in my hands? Where is the Super Blue Jew when you need him ?He rescued all the Home Depot elves who were working in the shop window as slave child labor instead of giving presents to kids. ( see the Santacon blog a few years ago, for that exciting adventure). The happy crowds thronged and milled around and took pictures, unaware of the imminent tragedy of the potential molestation of innocent art exhibits about to take place, never mind the whole Skelly Revolution, who knows where that will go.

Woe is me. Please God help me, someone , somewhere , we must stop the Undead before it is too late.

SP, come back, don't leave us with Humph gone who will save us from these horrible Skelly creatures

The girl with the octopus hat had a twin, with tree trunks sticking out of her hat this time.

The Skellys prowl around here at night when Humph is gone, they get in through the window as they are so skinny, and they make even Jemima look fat.

They cackle away, their silly bones clanking around as they get out their iPhones and take photos of the art to show their friends, tapping away messages with their teeth on their Skelly app, whoever invented that should be shot. They are all Flirty McFlirty with all us lady art pieces and make a general nuisance of themselves and none of us get a wink of sleep. Just before dawn, they slink back out the window and disappear leaving nothing but a deathly graveyard, dead bats and rats, rotten leaves kind of a foul odor , which gets up our nose all day. My poor sister can't even scratch her nose as you know. Do something SP, with Humph out who knows what kind of mischief they will be up to tonight. And they are so pushy, think they are so sexy and always sticking their bony paws up our coats, Eeuww. Yukko. Sleazos!

Wow, those poor exhibits may be manhandled tonight. I must put my thinking cap on and try and rescue them before the night comes in. And here, all I wanted was a quiet stroll around a Soho gallery this afternoon , trust me to get embroiled in another life threatening drama. I am tired of them, I just want a day to myself. No such luck it seems.

I dashed out the gallery hoping the New York streets might inspire a clever idea for some retaliation tactics.

I turned around and there was yet another Skelly art piece on the wall.

The usual skull and crossbones combo with a top hat and naked women in the background. More cliched art. Ok, the colors were pretty nice, but it was stinky none the less.

If the Skellys want some action in the art and entertainment then why not audition to be an extra in a Lord of The Rings film and leave our galleries alone.

"Skellys, your art stinks and is all copy cat. Go home to the earth and leave the New York art scene alone. Or at least try and be a bit more original." I shouted out to no one in particular as Humph was still slumped on his desk.

On that assertive I'm not afraid of you note, I stormed out the gallery, with a wave to Jemima and the gang, to indicate , Do not fear,the SP is on this Skelly situation.

Humph , Humphrey Wafflepants , wake up! You have a gallery to run, you can't just pass out like that.

I smacked him in the face a few times and finally threw some cold water over him. ( Jemima cheered at that part and the octopus gave me the thumbs up or in his case, the tentacle up).

I looked around the room and saw more hidden Skelly art pieces. They really fancied themselves something rotten.

This is the Skelly with the Andy Warhol hairdo portrait, cliched and naff, if you ask me, but that doesn't mean someone won't overpay for it, especially in Soho. It had that Robert Mapplethorpe black background and perfect framing of the face, the way he did. A direct copy if you ask me.

The Skelly was smirking away, looking very proud of itself , with it's Warhol hairdo, like it was God's gift to women. Pure ego.

I thought it was just men that had the massive ego syndrome but now I see those Skelly's are just as bad.

So they are getting ready to take over the art world are they? Well we will see about that. Those Skelly's don't scare me. I deal with them every year at Halloween time. Always fishing for a date, the sleazy bunch.

Humph beckoned me over to the back of the gallery.

"Forget about that John Lennon piece, I have something special to show you in the back room, something unique. There is a brand new art market, new artists, new collectors."

"Mexicans, Polish, Irish? it can't be the Chinese, that market is so overdone now." I leaned over to Humph, who had a strange look on his face that I could not figure out.

"Come to the back room. Come now, but be prepared for something unique. Totally unique."

I started walking over but all my friends the art exhibits, Jemima, the girl with the octopus and the octopus itself, started shaking their heads as if to say no, don't go. The octopus was waving it's tentacle in an aggressive manner and frowning more than usual.

I wonder why?

I pretended I did not see the warnings and marched into the back room and stopped short.

Something I have feared for many years had finally happened. Humph looked at me. I looked at him.

The Skellys, they are infiltrating the art world , then what next.

"How did this get here, Humph? I am sure showing the art of the undead is illegal, you are putting yourself at risk here. What does the piece mean?"

"One of the Skellys in a black cloak stormed in late at night and told me if I did not show the art , my appointment with Dr Death, would be tomorrow and he manages Dr Death's schedule and can shift things around. So I have it here and only you can see it. Can you help SP, this piece is a prototype. It is a sign that the Skellys want to post in the streets of New York. All of us are to be "tourists", they are the new locals, and we are all to have permits like yellow stars and we get fined $200 if we don't have them on us. I think they got that number from Monoply. It is pretty scary stuff. It is the Skelly Revolution! With that he passed out on his desk.

As I was walking to see Jemima, feeling fatter with every step. My eye caught John Lennon and Yoko holding up a sign,saying Art is Over.

Yet the sign was on a painting for sale for $6,000 in a trendy Soho gallery. If that is not art, then what is?

A closer look revealed the word, "here", at the bottom of the sign. Art is over, here." Cute, cheesy. Poor old John he should have been 70 this year and making music still and telling the world what to do. He would have put Osama Bin Laden in his place, no question.

During Vietnam John paid for giant billboards with anti war slogans, which were important and meaningful. He is probably turning over in his grave, with this art is over here, nonsense.

"Humph, the Jemima piece is making me feel like a hefalump, and this John piece is too trite, what else you got?".

Poor Jemima, my oh so skinny colleague at the back of the gallery

The gallery owner put her on a mastercleanse fast for 3 months and she was only allowed to sip the lemonade through a straw , one cup a day.

Every day she cried ,"Art, Art, I must do it for the Art. Maybe some wealthy trendy Soho Fashionista, will take me home and feed me. Ah how I long for a Mac and Cheese grilled to perfection under the oven or a spaghetti limon, a chocolate shake or a black sesame seed ice-cream, anything but cayenne flavored lemonade, that is why I am so thin, that blasted cayenne burnt a hole in my stomach. Sob! Sob! How is a lass to survive on 3 calories a day for 3 months. This gallery owner Humphrey Wafflepants should be arrested for cruelty to exhibits. It is an injustice so it is..."

Then Humphrey would walk over to her and prod her in the stomach,
"Jemima stop whining, enough already. I told you I want you STICK THIN, get it. The ladies that come in here pop in after shopping in Chanel, most of them are Russian models, they want an art piece that looks like them, not some dumpy girl in a blue raincoat with an octopus on her head. ( looking at me). Now drink your lemonade and quiet down you are upsetting the other exhibits.( Well, we all looked down at the ground) Be thankful you got to keep your own breasts and they weren't replaced by red eggs."
Then his iPhone 4 rang and he started laughing and guffawing in that annoying, pompous way to his art cronies, that the poor exhibits were complaining and isn't it a terrible shame.

And so she cried. Well we all gave her sympathetic looks but what could we do, we have our own jobs to look after. In this climate you have to be grateful you get any work at all.

As for me, well I am allowed to eat. I am to appeal to the podgy rich little girls that come in and Hump says someone will buy me soon. And then I will be free. At least Jemima does not have a slimy, slithery live octopus balanced on her hat. I have to stand here all day and not move a muscle in case the octopus falls off! If it falls off, even once, Humph says he is booting me out the show. I am a nervous wreck with it all. My nose tickles me all day and I can't even scratch it. I feel like I am in my own hell, the Sisyphus of the art world and all for a measly $7 an hour. It's an injustice that it is. Sob! Sniffle! Sniffle! Please would you scratch my nose."

I reached over to softly scratch her little nose, and the octopus glared at me and shifted a little on her head, almost falling off. Cripes! These poor exhibits have it tough. Someone should report this Ne'er Do Well Hump character for cruelty to exhibits , he is probably selling their breasts and body parts too, what a fiend.

Humph glanced up from his IPad and gave me an icy glare.

"Please do not touch the exhibits , any breakages must be paid for. Hey, aren't you the girl who never paid for the Porridge Chair , over in Chelsea, there is a Wanted Notice out for you in the art world."

"Nah, that wasn't me, that girl left to Scotland over Thanksgiving , I don't think she is coming back. How much for that fabulous Skinny Exhibit Doll with the white hair, if only I could be as thin as her,she is gorgeous!"

"Ah, you must mean Jemima. Please come and take a look. She took months to perfect, the Italian artist just won a prize at Art Basel for her, she is my treasure , what a good eye you have."

I winked over at the Octopus girl, who gave me a teeny, weeny smile with the corners of the mouth, whilst hardly moving an inch. The octopus gave me another steely, cold stare, and then walked over to see Jemima with Humph, who had suddenly become charm himself and would not stop talking about all the awards and accolades, rave reviews for the ground breaking Jemima piece.

"This is the way women dream of looking but daren't admit it." He droned on.

Now Space Cat Woman Doll I like!

She is more my type of gal.

Well if this is beauty, I got to slim down - a lot.

Oh dear, better go easy on the spaghetti limon at Franx. Now I am really depressed. I thought this show would cheer me up, fat chance. Fat being the operative word.

Lovely red egg breasts

I guess normal old breasts are passé in the art world.

Interesting Marilyn Monroe with Mickey Mouse boobs

There must be some message for me here. I need to let my boobs be more playful perhaps! Find a groovy bra to attract Mr Right?

Hmmm... This whole finding a date for Halloween is proving pretty challenging

I don't know why it is so tough every single year. I am fed up with it. I need a nice normal alive guy not one of those undead ghouls or IPhone Teeth Tapping Skelly Monsters from the Sag Harbor Whaling Museum Haunted House.

To take my mind off things I decided to wander into a trendy Soho Gallery on Greene Street, to see if I could find some solace and peace.