His wife kept interrupting with local gossip while he was painting the Sistine chapel.
He had to pee way too often.
Some clergy wanted Satan included.
Stain glass window light hurt his eyes.
The paint by numbers kit he began with was insufficient.
Come spring, contractors were refurbishing the entire place in stucco.
His agent had lost a bundle of his earnings investing in a Mother of Jesus clothing line.
They didn't tell him the damn ceiling was curved.
He could never draw hands and feet.
The Pope wanted his likeness in there somewhere, minus the belly fat.
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