Roscoe didn't feel like he was very good at a few things.
"I have all these paintings but I don't know how to hang them." he said.
He called his mom. "Mom what do I do?"
"Just hang the damn things!" said Mom.
Roscoe went and got a bunch of stuff for hanging. Hammers, nails, screws, wires, a level, the hanging works! He was overstocked if you ask me. Roscoe got to work hanging them pictures. The first one looked like krap. He hung another. It looked like krap too. He hung more. Then more. Then more again. You get it.
Hours and days later he'd hung every picture on the wall and a lot of them looked like shitjobs but the last few were really nicely placed.
"Hey this room looks good!" he said.
He also wasn't very good at making love to his woman. So he called her into the room.
"Hey you put a lot of pictures in this room."
"Yep I practiced, now I'm great at picture hanging."
"Let's make love on this sofa here."
"Okay I've never made love on this sofa." said Roscoe's woman.
Roscoe and his woman made way too much love on the sofa. They made love for what seemed like weeks. Roscoe's skin felt like he was gonna peel off. He was ill.
"Hey you're getting pretty good at that lovemaking." said Roscoe's woman.
"That makes it all worth it." said Roscoe.
Then Roscoe thought of what else he wasn't great at. Drawing noses. He was good at drawing eye balls but not noses. So he whipped out a piece of paper and got to work. He still was bad then he got bored of trying and made more love to his woman.
Then George Fancini walked into the room.
"Hey what the heck are you people doing in my vacation home!?!" said George Fancini.
"I'm getting good at stuff." said Roscoe.
Roscoe and his woman didn't think anyone would be coming into the room for a long time because no one had come in the room for a long time.