The canvas bathed Itself in toxins.

Paint dripped down the sides.

Drip.

The brush's bristles danced across It's surface and layered on the colours.

It felt scratchy; uncomfortable.

Paint applied like lipgloss.

Paint worn like dresses.

Paint worn like a mask.

Paint worn to make It pretty.

Paint worn to make It appealing.

Layers dried and cracked.

More would be applied to hide the flaws.

Layers were worn like they were part of the canvas.

In reality, the paint was just a cover-up.

There was a risk to doing this.

Apply the paint too quickly, and it would be noticeable.

Layer them on, just as they dried. If they change too fast, the toxins become mud. And It doesn't want that.

Nobody wants mud.

Instead, It became everybody's favorite colour.

Everybody has the same favorite colour, it's

All It has to be is everyone's favorite colour.

That's alright.

That's easy.

Just apply all of the colours, one at a time.

Okay, so their favorite colours are changing quickly, just change the paint quicker.

Maybe it'll dry faster if It blows on it enough.

Your favorite colour is red?

Oh.

It'll grab the paint.

Oh.

The canvass isn't dry.

It's mixed it in.

No matter, just add some blue to even it out.

Doesn't matter that It's violet.

It's still a colour.

It isn't mud.

Fix it.

But be careful, because It might just turn to mud.