The store sat in a quiet corner of the city, surrounded by mystic, strange folks. Most people did not travel this way. Rumors spread about everything from drugs to mermaids to even bugs. On this day, a man named Volare walked by. A large party was going on the other side of the city. It wouldn’t start for a few hours. As he was walking, he remembered he needed something for the party. A portrait. To get into this secret society, he needed a portrait of himself. And they specifically said this art shop.
So Volare straightened himself up and walked inside. Inside, it was unassuming. A large front desk, chairs, and a small plant in the corner. There were pictures on the walls. He walked up to the front and dinged the bell. As he waited, he looked at the windows. Black and orange lights strung in spider webbing with fake spiders. He shook his head. Halloween was only a week away. It made sense for the stores to have decorations at this time of year.
A woman walked up to the desk. She had a costume on. A headband with bug antennas and funny-looking glasses. She also had leather boots, a shirt, and pants.
“May I help you?” She asked. Volare nodded.
“One picture, please,” he said. The woman nodded and slid something over to him.
“Sign this, please and wait to be seen.”
Volare grabbed it and sat down. It was a catalog with options for how you wanted your picture to be painted. He circled several options and then signed the bottom. He flipped the page, and there were more pages to sign.
Once he finished, he waited. A little while later, someone called for him. He stood up, and a man led him to the back. This man wore an even more elaborate costume. Black tie, suit pants, and also wearing funny-looking glasses. He walked Volare into a room. Then he left for a moment.
The man returned with the items needed for the portrait, and something else. It was a bottle of corked wine. At Volare’s confusion, the man simply smiled.
“I thought I might offer this. This process could be a while.” Volare shrugged. A bottle of wine could be good for the afternoon.
“How much?” Volare asked. Again, the man smiled.
“Nothing, it’s included with the price.” So, he poured Volare a glass and began working.
“So, where are you going on this lovely afternoon?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m going to a party. They asked that I come here for a portrait.” At that, the man stopped for a moment, and then smiled.
“Is that so? Well they’ll have a lovely picture.”
Volare took a sip of the drink. It was sweet, with a hint of something bitter.
“I just moved here a year ago, and I really want to be accepted. It’s been a really tough couple of years,” he said.
“Well, I hope you do,” the man said. He worked the brush, a sly smile creeping up on his face as he looked at his work.
Volare took another sip, then another, and another. Before he knew it, he started to feel tired. Wow, I really can’t handle alcohol very well, he thought.
“Have you found a new job yet?” the man asked.
“I, I don’t know, I’m looking for one,” Volare said. He started to slur his words. Everything got blurry. He kept sipping on the drink, intoxicated by its sweet notes. He slumped over, his vision fading to black.
The man stopped painting and looked at his client. He had fallen asleep. He grinned madly.
Standing up, he picked him up. As he did so, the front desk manager walked up to him.
“New catch?” she asked.
“Not much. Although I do have an event I must attend in half an hour.”
The doorbell dinged, and a large, anthropomorphic insect walked in. It was a ladybug.
“I need to have my portrait done, please,” it said. It looked at the man with slight disgust.
“Not by him. He always tries to eat me.”
The man took off his glasses and peeled off his suit.
Out came a 6-foot-long spider. It laughed at the ladybug.
“Oh, but you are so lovely, my dear.” The ladybug waved him off.
The spider re-positioned his catch on his back and walked towards the back.
An hour later, a well-dressed man in glasses arrived to a large garden party. He walked in, and a large grasshopper greeted him.
“Here is your requested payment,” the man said. It was a painting of Volare, entrapped in a spider’s web like a fly.
