Helenmollybooks

He came into my shop on Monday morning. I didn’t catch a full glimpse of him as he walked in, but he appeared to be one of my clients. Or I thought he was one of my clients. Until I saw him in the faint early morning light reflecting off the window. It was someone I’d never seen before. He wore a top hat with a black and white coat and a strange shine in his eye. He put money down on the counter in front of me.

“One portrait, please. And make it quick, I have somewhere to be.”

I glanced at him before making my way toward him. There was something odd about his demeanor, but I shrugged.

“This way please,” I said. He sat in the waiting wooden chair. I closed the door beh

“I want it to look stunning. My daughter’s birthday is this coming week,” he said.

I went in front of the drawing board and sat before responding.

“Have you been here before?” I asked, picking up my tool.

“No.” Then he looked worried. “Why, is there something I missed?”

“No,” I said. “I just mean that the paintings done here differ from most shops.”

“How so?”

“Well,” I said, beginning the work. “It’s delicate work.”

I started working on the white canvas with my knife. Drawing an outline.

He winced slightly and rubbed his arm.

“Damn, I must’ve hit my arm too hard this morning.”

I continued to work and talk.

“My clients tend to…be of a delicate nature. Not like your average person.”

He rubbed his shoulders and legs and looked intrigued but slightly concerned at his body aches.

I finished the outline and set the tool down.

“They tend to, em, want more complicated orders. I can cater to that.”

He looked at me, eyebrow raised slightly but not unconcerned.

“Sounds like you have a lot to handle,” he said. I shrugged and pulled out something else.

It was a calligraphy pen. I began to fill in the outline, as quickly as he had requested.

“I do,” I said. “Well, sometimes.”

He again rubbed his arms and legs, feeling uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I guess it’s these old bones acting up.”

I ignored his question and continued. The process was going quick, but apparently not enough.

“Why is this taking so long?” he asked, annoyed. “How long does it take to draw a picture?”

I stopped for a second, thinking. Then I continued with a different tool. This one was a sprayer with a sharp pointed end.

“I’ll make that process quicker for you, sir,” I said. “Drawing takes time for it to look good.”

“Ow,” he yelped. “What the hell is wrong with me today? I’m not that old.”

“Who knows,” I said idly. I put down the tool and started on the second to last process. The drawing part. I was excited for this part. My clients always said it brought them great joy. It made them laugh every time. I looked forward to that. I eyed the man with the strange glint in his eye. Maybe he won’t. He’s not one of my clients. I shrugged. Doesn’t matter to me. He paid the service and should’ve read the warning sign on the counter. And signed the waiver. It’s not illegal to not have to sign it, it’s their own fault if they don’t.

As I was about to get to drawing, I was interrupted. A client of mine poked their head through the door.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but can I reschedule that appointment? I had something come up.”

The man with the strange glint fell backward, his mouth agape at my client standing there.

I stood up and wiped my hands on my clothes.

“Of course. Just give me a few minutes, and we’ll fix that.” My client disappeared behind the door.

The man with the strange glint suddenly looked uneasy. Fearful.

“W-who exactly do you service,” he asked, sounding nervous.

I grinned, showing my sharp teeth.

“You can see for yourself,” I said. “Now, let’s finish up so you can head out.”

 I began to draw, and the man with the glint started to scream.

“What is happening to me?” He fell over, his shrieks echoing. I knew he wanted quick results, so that’s what I did. I heard my clients outside, laughing at the man’s shrieks. Shrill, hyena-type laughs echoed from outside. I stifled a laugh to not embarrass myself. But I did grin. Read the sign on the desk, idiot. About 10 minutes later, I finished drawing. The man with the strange glint stood shakily, gasping for breath as I handed him the picture. He walked out rather unsteadily and didn’t look at me.

He looked at the red, blue- and green-eyed wolf hounds standing waiting for their turn in line, and they just grinned at him. I waved as he left.

“Don’t let the door hit ya on the way out,” I said.