The Painter tore pieces of audience off its body, and the pieces came with pieces of the Painter, because the grafting did not separate cleanly as the grafting was not separable.
The Painter screamed, and the screaming was the first sound the Painter had ever produced that was not curated for the audience's reception. The screaming was raw, and it was for the Painter's own benefit, addressed to no one, performed for no audience, because the Painter had never had a private moment in its existence and now had one, and the private moment was agony.
The audience, even as it was torn from the Painter's body, continued to eat.
The pieces of the audience that had been removed from the Painter were still hungry. They reached, with mouths that had multiplied along their bodies in anticipation of this meal, and they bit into the Painter's hands as the Painter tried to remove them.
"Ahhh… You bastards! How dare you all! I am to feed you not the food! Stop!"
