So I get this call to repair a bust and head, a family heirloom, made of
marble.  The man says it belonged to his Grandmother, who now deceased, died
as a result of trying to pick up the broken pieces, after a thief, crawling
through a window, knocked the statue off its pedestal.  He wanted to know if
I would put it back together, knowing it had lead to his Grandmother's
demise.

"Not a problem," my reply.  I had him leave it at a friends monument shop,
till I could get down to pick it up.

My friend's dog, seeing the pieces in a box, went crazy and started barking
at the statue's head.  (I thought dogs only saw two dimensional.)  I picked
the pieces up, and moved them to my shop.  My crew, noticing the pieces,
began trying to decide what it was.  One said an angel, another said a small
boy.  I flashed on the robe like clothing, and immediately saw an Alter Boy.

"Oh my God, so that's what started the Clergy witch hunt!"

The crew says, "fix it and get it out of here,"  however I have no
volunteers.  No one wants to touch it.

Mark