graffiti artists

In the bustling heart of Pompeii, a wondrous city ablaze with life and laughter, the aroma of freshly baked bread wafted through the narrow cobbled streets. 

The sweet fragrance mingled with the salty tang of the sea, audible in the distance, and the earthy scent of dust kicked up by the chattering populace that thronged the city center.

Somewhere, a crow tried eating figs at a vendors stall. In a booming voice, the man running the stall told the crow to fuck off, swinging his broom at it. His words echoed off the sun-drenched stone and aged timber as the crow took flight.

The city pulsed with energy and vitality, a stark contrast to the looming presence of Mount Vesuvius.

The sun still shown strong late into the afternoon. However, in one of the busy side streets, obscured by shadow and overlooked by patrician villas, two figures worked in fervent silence. 

Their hands, stained with vibrant hues, moved with practiced ease across the rough stone wall. One was tall and skinny, an artist known by his pseudonym "Festus the Phoenix," for his flamboyant style and fiery color palette. 

His accomplice was shorter, rounder, and responded to the name "Vitruvius the Viper," an expert in fine detail and striking accuracy.

"Phoenix, for fucks sake, you smeared the nose of the senator again!"
Vitruvius grumbled, his voice carrying the gravelly texture of the streets themselves. His hands, though pudgy, maneuvered with grace and precision, sketching out a satirical caricature of a bloated senator – shouting into the crowd with his small dick hanging out.

Phoenix let out a bark of laughter. "Well, Vitruvius, I’ve long since been sober! You KNOW my painting style! That’s why I’m not painting his cock!”

Just as Phoenix completed his sentence, the duo heard the unmistakable sound of Roman sandals scraping against stone. A figure rounded the corner, his lamplight casting ominous shadows. It was Lucius, a prominent patrician with a notorious reputation for his sharp wit and even sharper tongue.

"My, my," Lucius said, the smirk evident in his voice. "If it isn't Pompeii's infamous bastard street artists at work. I’ll bet this isn’t the only display of your “work” here either”.

Phoenix and Vitruvius froze, then turned slowly. The flickering lamplight illuminated their smudged faces, adding a dramatic flair to their shocked expressions.

"The gods see it fit for us to get fucked" Phoenix said, his voice dry.

Lucius snorted, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he surveyed their masterpiece. 

The graffiti was a lively scene, filled with caricatures of the city's most influential men, their pomposity and pretensions grotesquely exaggerated – with some physical attributes minimized - for comedic effect. Lucius let out a soft chuckle.

"Well done, I must say. However, I've got a more promising proposition for you," Lucius said, his eyes reflecting the vibrant colors on the wall. "I think you should work for me". 

Phoenix and Vitruvius exchanged a look. This was uncharted territory. Graffiti was their outlet, their VOICE amidst the shit and bustle of the city; not a thing to be bought and sold like drugs and whores.

"We have a talent for mocking those who possess influence and power" Vitruvius said carefully, "But we're uncomfortable with business of personal vendettas."

Lucius attempted to persuade them. "I think you two would do a fine job. Just think of it as.. shall we say, creative political commentary. I assure you, the coin will be generous."

Though they were promised a great deal of money, there was one caveat – they had to work in secret. They would have no protection (body guards) from Lucius. If they got caught, they were on their own. They discussed it for a few minutes before accepting Lucius’ request.

“Who will we mock?” Viper asked. 

Lucius grinned. 

“There’s this pompous fucking cunt named Pontious. He owes me money, and continues to deflect every time I see him. He’s tall, skinny, with long hair like a lions mane. I need you two – to get creative on embellishing his features in the most disgraceful manner. I need it done by tonight. Meet me at Fuckers Point tomorrow morning for payment”.

After discussing a few more details, Lucius disappeared into the night. Phoenix and Viper looked at each other with a mix of awe and trepidation. 

The two graffiti artists had now embarked on a journey into the ‘freelance for hire’ world of political satire and propaganda. They soon got to work.
They made their way to Pontious’ favorite bakery, as Lucius had earlier instructed.

They began painting; their detail and color palette bringing life to an otherwise desolate canvas. 

The end result was their first paid masterpiece: A cowardly lion, running away from a man in an extravagant toga raising his sword toward him. Coins followed the trail of the lion running away.

They made another painting right beside it; with the lion hiding in a corner. It handed the man in grand attire a coin purse overflowing with coins; while pissing itself in fear.

The art duo giggled, trying not to make too much noise to draw attention to their nefarious deed. Viper added a few more minor details, then, with his trusty comrade; fucked off into the night.

The next morning, Pontious arrived at his favorite bakery as usual. However, this time a small crowd gathered close to a wall, snickering and muttering among themselves.

“What the fuck is this!” Pontious roared, as he inspected the masterpiece. “Whoever fucking did this will pay! THEY, will be pissing themselves in fear after I find them! May the gods fuck them where everyone in the street can watch!”

Pontious stormed off, pouting as he left in shame without buying his favorite bread. His debt problems were well known within affluent circles – the crowd knew he was the lion depicted in the paintings. His appearance made it obvious as well.

As promised, Lucius waited for the two artists responsible at Fuckers Point. It was a dreary place, plagued by losers who asked questions such as: “Spare some coin?” “Have you any wine left to spare?” “Could you buy me something to eat? I’m hungry”. It was horrifying.

Trying to avoid suspicion, Phoenix and Viper walked over to a shaded alleyway where Lucius stood. He seemed quite cheerful.

“Well done boys!” Lucius exclaimed brightly. “That was EXACTLY what I had hoped for! Here is your payment”. He tossed a small, but hefty bag of coins to Viper, which he caught. 

“I will require your assistance again soon, but for now, enjoy the rewards of your work for the day. We’ll meet at our last meeting place at sun down tomorrow”.

Lucius walked away victoriously, leaving them there to think. They waited until he was long gone to count the coin. 

“Holy fuck Phoenix!” Viper whispered. “This is a weeks pay!! Let’s split it and go celebrate at Vulcan's Tavern.

And so they did. 

During sundown of the next day, as promised, they met with Lucius once again. 
“I hope you’re not too sober this evening; as my request for you tonight will be quite special”.

They looked at him curiously.

“There is this one woman known among us patricians. Her name is Julia. She’s a mean spirited witch, a whore; while she pretends to be the goddess of love herself. She has long hair tied into braids, often wearing a daring dress nearly showing off her tits. I need you to get creative, ruining her image as much as possible. This time, write her name beside the painting to drive the point home. Meet me at Fuckers point tomorrow morning like the last time. I’ll leave you to it”.

They snuck off to where Lucius instructed them to go – Close by a villa where she was known to frequent.

Once again, they completed two paintings. 

The first depicted a woman with long braids with her chest extremely exaggerated; with a razor thin strip of cloth covering her nipples. Half of her face resembled a loving goddess, the other half a snake with its tongue sticking out.

The second painting of her was accurate as physically described – with one little detail added. She was getting fucked by a senator, holding up a wine jug in celebration. Behind him were a line up of prominent men in grandiose attire yelling “When is it my turn!?”

Viper and Phoenix left the scene soon after, retiring for the night.

The next morning a shrill, horrible scream from a woman could be heard from miles. She threw a jug of wine at it in rage, storming off. The Patricians laughed among themselves; first at the paintings, then at her unhinged reaction to them.
Viper and Phoenix collected their payment once again, waiting for their assignment at sun down.

Pontious contacted Julia, arranging a discrete meeting. “I have reason to believe the culprit is being paid off by someone of high regard” he muttered. He explained the similarities between his own disgrace and hers.

“What should be done?” She asked. Pontious shrugged. “We’ll have to catch the coward in the act, then proceed from there”.

Like clockwork, Viper and Phoenix were painting at night once again. This time they were mocking a senator; known for showing up to hearings drunk after his sex crazed parties. Phoenix and Viper portrayed him as a drunken goat - at a brothel fucking bar whores.

This night however, Viper had a bad feeling about getting caught. 

“We’re not going to get fucking caught!” Phoenix consoled. “If we hear foot steps we’ll run like hell. We’ve been over this before”.

Viper sighed. “Yes, but the stakes are higher this time. I’m keeping my ears sharp just in case”.

Phoenix nodded. They continued their work as planned.

Pontious and Julia were accompanied by their guards, searching for any signs of mischief. They happened to walk past an alley; an alley close by a villa belonging to a debaucherous senator.

Phoenix looked at their finished masterpiece, laughing at the drunk horny goat they painted in the likeness of the senator. “Shut up!” Viper whispered. They heard foot steps approaching, quickly with purpose. They started to run. 

“Hey, whose there!” Pontious yelled, trying to find the source of the sudden laughter. They came across the painting, observing the fresh paint.

“Quickly!” Pontious urged Julia and the guards. They only slightly increased their walking speed to a slow jog.

“I said fucking hurry! Their cunt scheming continues apace!”

Viper and Phoenix winded through the maze of alleyways, running for their freedom and safety. They encountered a group of beggars, paying them off to block the path for them to escape.

Eventually Pontious, Julia and the guards encountered the crowd. They moved slowly, swaying back and forth like zombies.

“Spare some change??” One asked. “Have you wine to give to a cursed pleb like me? My well of luck has gone dry” Another asked.

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY YOU IDIOTS!” Julie screamed. “The culprits are getting away! Move or I’ll rip your fucking balls off!”

Scared of her unholy feminine rage, they moved aside; yet it was too late. The artists had escaped.

“Fuck!!” Pontious yelled, kicking a nearby peasant on the street. They just happened to be underneath Lucius’ villa where they cursed at their failure to capture Viper and Phoenix.

Lucius, recognizing their voices, giggled as he got out of bed. He smiled gleefully as he walked onto his balcony, disrobing. He enjoyed the soft caress of the wind as he started pissing on Pontious and Julia. 

Pontious screamed like a little girl, pushing Julia in front of him as he hid for cover. Julia fell on the ground hard, quickly getting on her knees, pushing herself up to stand – all while getting pissed on. Lucius paid the guards off, protecting him from the wrath of the ones he just pissed on.

Lucius had a higher degree of wealth and power than those two. Between his wealth, status and silver tongue, he slithered his way out of any sort of punishment.

The next day, Viper and Phoenix decided to take a vacation, as Lucius had also suggested. Lucius said their partnership thus far was only just the beginning – he had plenty more work for them to do whenever they decided to return.

And so, Viper and Phoenix became anonymous, infamous artists that everyone in the city had heard of. Their work soon became legend; their hands painting stories in the language of wit and satire - their legacy etched in stone, waiting to be read in the annals of time.