Man, so you want to know what happens when good ideas go bad? You're looking at it. Sonuvabitch had me by the throat, and I was like "Why are you hurting me!?" to which it replied, "Because I'm the bastard son of a whore and a pimp!" At first I was sort of glad, because I often like to think of myself as one who be "pimpin" but I quickly learned this a pimp of a different meaning.
I fought back with my pressure sensitive stylus I've dubbed, Sir Draws-A-Lot (because I'm nothing if not original), but the beast dodged my every thrust. I stepped back and began to ready myself for another advance, but it was in that single moment that the beast struck, crippling my drawing arm, and penetrating my creativity with its bicuspid of failure.
Rendered weak, and unable to continue, I dropped to my knees and surrendered to its will. As I finished bucket filling the last of the empty spaces in the line art, the beast then said in a mocking growl, "Now give me Color Halftone so that all may bear witness to your half-assed shame!" And so I did...and so it has become...forever a symbol of my ever growing artistic shame.