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!