Dear wardens of this artistic outlaw,
Your child’s so-called “Irish centaur luchador wrassler” looks less like folklore and more like folkloreclosure. He’s giving me 50 Centaur vibes—half man, half horse, all bankruptcy. This isn’t “Get Rich or Die Tryin’,” it’s “Get Rich or Dye Everything Green and Pray Someone Buys It.”
That face does not say “luchador.” It says “angry turnip waiting for a bus.” The gold at his feet is not a treasure. It looks like a busted piggy bank left at a garage sale. And don’t get me started on the proportions. This creature would collapse if it sneezed.
If this belongs anywhere, it’s in a coloring book titled Leprechauns Nobody Wanted. For next time, remind your child that a body needs balance. Four stumpy legs and a torso shaped like soggy cardboard will not win a match.
Sincerely, Mrs. Pickens, 3rd Grade Art Teacher.
