With his new haircut, Parker dons his sharpest outfit and heads for church. He is taking with him a magnetic drawing pad (which allows mom and dad to listen in sacrament meeting) with which he will capture images from the proceedings. He is the ultimate perfectionist, erasing with passion every stray line. He starts over, again and again and again, each time grunting in dissatisfaction at his error or brilliance at the new idea (I am not really sure which one it is). In the end, the canvas returns to the begining as he wipes it clean before putting it up until next Sunday. Maybe it is humility, or embarrassment, but he just prefers that the images he creates do not live on for more than a few minutes (most live significantly less than that). In the end he says that a wise man once told him, "The canvas will never be more beautiful than it is before you begin, so don't hesitate to draw in fear that you might make a mistake." (Yes, it was me who told him that, but really, I heard it from a wise man.)
