Deep breath in.

"The lips, the teeth, the tip of the tonnnngue." A voice that was not his own filled the room.

"The incisors, the serators, the tip of the mannnbibles." He chittered joyfully, almost losing the voice he'd managed to practice to near perfection. "What do you think, grandma Nickles? how do I sound? Every bit the sweet old lady you are?" He placed his hand on the knee of a woman sitting on a couch before him.

Her still form did not respond. "Or were. Hard to reply without a mouth, isn't it? How rude of me!"

Roach hopped up and spun in place, bowing to an imaginary audience, and speaking in hi usual English intellectual drawl.

"WELCOME! WELCOME! To the spectacle of the evening! Know true happiness, know true pain! More than all, know the CRAFT! THEATER AT IT'S FINEST! Tonights show will take you on a journey through the world of deception, and mercantilism!" He bowed again to imaginary applause, and turned, taking the spine of a tired old lady(not literally), and hobbling slowly over to the chair next to the phone. He sat slowly, cursing his aching joints in the voice of a sweet old lady as he went. He then reached over to grab the old rotary phone, an dial a number that had been posted on the lovely internets.

"Enjoy the show!" He spoke in the voice of the old lady.

Riiiing. Riiiing. riii-click!

Let the show begin.

"H-Hello? Have I reached the right number? I'm inquiring about the art posted on the line!"

She was immersed in her current project, so much so that she very nearly didn't hear her phone go off until the second ring. Blinking at the unknown number she hit the answer button with the pad of her thumb and lifted it to her ear, where she wedged it firmly against her shoulder. "Hello?"

"H-Hello? Have I reached the right number? I'm inquiring about the art posted on the line!"

The voice on the other end was so old and sweet sounding. She very nearly missed the on the line part. Shelby blinked, "The art online?" She echoed, "From Bythecanvas.com?" She balanced her makeshift pallet in one hand, a paintbrush held aloft in the air with another and attempted to finish the corner of the piece she was working on. Another commission, as it were.

"If you are looking for Heidi, you have the right number. Was there a particular piece of art that you were interested in or were you looking for place an order for a commission piece?"

A few more strokes, she switched colors, and then... bam! It was done. Before her sat probably one of the weirdest commissions she had ever done, but... money was money. Who needed a painting of a zombie cat in a clown suit anyway? It was totally creepy.

"The art online? From Bythecanvas.com?"

"Ohhh boy, did did I say that wrong again? I'm afraid i'm getting a bit loopy in my old age, dear." His antennae popped bout innocently as he twirled the phone cord in his fingers. "Yes, I think I saw it in that site page."

"If you are looking for Heidi, you have the right number. Was there a particular piece of art that you were interested in or were you looking for place an order for a commission piece?"

"Heeeidi, oh I am so happy to meet you! I love what I've seen of your work! I was looking at some of the examples you have up on the web net. I liked that one called "Lost Flower." I wanted to ask about pricing, dear!"

A cat jumped up on his lap, and Roach pet the feline softly, speaking on the phone over purrs.

"Don't mind bubbles. She just want to be included in the conversation!" And she's eaten more of her owner than I have! He didn't add that last bit in.

That time she did remove the phone from her ear to give it an incredulous stare. Old people were weird, man. She set her brush down and stood, meandering over to where she had that particular painting stashed.

"..Lost flower? A-are you sure that was the one you were looking at, Ma'am?" Pulling the piece out, she eyed it and frowned. It was a painting of two large daisy's with skulls for faces, weeping blood into a headstone set between them. The flower's leaves were bent up like hands to partially hide some of the bone from view.

The old women wanted that one? She fished through the stack of them, finding another that was flower centric, without the blood and bones. "I have another piece called 'Laughing flower'... did you mean that one?"

Whatever answer she got, she pulled the painting out and set it on her desk propped up against the wall.

"Well, for that particular one the price is $800." She could hear purring in the background and chuckled softly. Sounded like a real grandma on the other side of the line.

"Wouldn't want to omit bubbles, would we?"

"I have another piece called 'Laughing flower'... did you mean that one?"

"Oh, no, dear. I saw that one on the winter net and it didn't sit with me as well. I love the feeling your other work puts out. I feel loss within it. It's really beautiful."

He bobbed his head about as she named the price. "Only 800, for such high level work? Heidi, I refuse to pay any less than 1200." He stood slowly, aching knees, remember? and walked to a window, looking out petting the little kitty.

"Wouldn't want to omit Bubbles, would we?"

He tossed it from the window, and turned to pace back toward the couch. "Not at all, dear."

With a groan, he sat on the couch once more. "Oh, my old bones. Now, I can't come by and pick it up, because of my poor knees, but I don't feel comfortable giving out my address. Can you send it to my post office box? I can have a friend deliver the payment to you, if that works."

he crossed his legs, and looked over to the window. An angry looking bubbles was perched there.

Odd.

Weird old woman. Still, she'd take a compliment when it was given. Not very many people really appreciated her work at all. When the woman shot down her price, and then upped it, she stumbled on her way back to her easel. "T-twelve hundred!?" She cleared her throat and paused to calm herself. "I mean, I priced it based off of the hours and supplies it took to make it, but if you are sure Ma'am i'm not one to say no." Freaky loaded crazy old woman.

She turned and grabbed a pen and paper when the woman started talking about P.O. Boxes and the like. "Mhm, oh no, of course. I understand completely." Said the woman currently in some odd form of the witness protection program. "That should work just fine. I've got a pen and pad, whenever you are ready."

Once she had the details, she started doodling a little picture in the corner of the paper. "Ma'am, if you don't mind me asking... you mentioned earlier that you felt loss within the painting. Did you really mean it?" She didn't normally ask people personal questions when they were buying her work... but this situation was unique. She truly wanted to know her opinion on the art.

Perhaps she had a 90 year old kindred soul out there somewhere?

He shut the window quickly, watching the angry cat from the other side.

"Old bones are getting cold. Had to shut a window." He grumbled, explaining the racket he'd made on the other side of the line.

"My husband Harold passed away. Freak glue factory accident. They often did say he was attached to his work..." He resisted a cackle at the horrible joke, having said it in a completely earnest tone.

"That sounds amazing, dear. I can't wait to have this piece." He eyed the window as it slowly started to open again. The cat was forcing it open with her paws. He tossed a phone book at the glass.

"Guess I should ask. Have you experienced loss recently Heidi dear? The message seemed so potent, I really couldn't help but think it echoed some deep emotion."

She suppressed a sigh as she turned to look out her window. It was overcast, grey and looked as if the heavens were in turmoil. "Yes, I have." She muttered into the phone, crossing an arm over her stomach.

"I recently lost a very good friend in a really unexpected, bad way." She didn't need to go into to many details. "I haven't actually been painting very much, too busy with... stuff."

She eyed the bare walls of her room and sighed again. "'Lost Flower' is one of the first I've painted in a while. I think it was my third project this week?" She shrugged, not caring enough to try and remember dates and times. "Anyway, the flowers are meant to symbolize those left behind. Those who are forced to go on living, even though they may very well feel dead inside themselves. Hence the skulls."

"Anyway, Ma'am, before I get into my life story... Thank you for your purchase. I will have the paining wrapped and sent to your P.O. box as soon as I receive the payment... That can be sent to my own P.O. box, which is on my page on the website, or, if you prefer, I have an online Paybuddy account you can use as well."

she described her loss; his antennae perked with glee.

"Oh, Heidi, I'm sorry to hear about that. I'm sure she was a nice girl."

He knew she never told him it was a woman that had died. Such things were rarely caught, but often left the person he was talking to feeling strange, like something was off. He liked to make people feel that way.

Then she started the description. And exciting feeling welled up in his chest, and he couldn't help but laugh deeply as she went on. He was sure to cover the receptor of the old phone, of course, as he let out a solid, "MUHUHUHAHAHAHAHAHHA!"

"Oh yes, dear, I'm dreadfully terrible at the deep webs, so I'll send the money to your PO Box. Let me tell you, sweety, it has really made my day, talking to you! It makes the gout so much more manageable." He gave her a ta, and hung up the phone, standing slowly, and turning to the now open window.

As enjoyable as that was, war was to be had.

She hummed in response and said her farewell, then hung up and squinted at the phone. Not exactly the strangest call she'd ever received. but decently high up there on the list.

But, more importantly... had she just said 'she'?

The squint turned into a stare that lasted much too long, before she finally forced herself to turn and set her phone down. Surely the woman had just assumed her friend was a she. There was no feasible way for her to have known anything about the murder, or her roommate.

Still, she couldn't help the shudder that raced through her, leaving her hair standing on end. She turned back to her easel, getting set to switch out canvases.

Second Instance:

She was walking back to her room, arms stuffed with freshly cleaned clothing, when her phone rang again. Cursing, she struggled the pile into a one-armed death grip and reached back to grab her phone from her pocket.

"Hello?" She nestled the device between shoulder and ear, regaining her grip on the laundry before she could lose any in the hallway. It was hard enough keeping her socks together without losing them in the hallway on top of the magical bulls%^$ that happened in the dryer. 

She reached her door and shouldered her way in, depositing the fresh pile of clothes on her bed. She set about folding them as she listened.

"GREETINGS GREETINGS GREETING!" A merry voice practically exploded from the phone at her as she answered!

"Do I have the good fortune on this fiiiine night to be speaking to a certain Heidi, with a gallery on Bythecanvas.com?"

He was wearing a wig, an had on stage makeup. She wasn't going to be seeing him for this part, but it helped him get into the mood.

"My name is Shane Gurtrude, I am somewhat of an art aficionado, if I do say so myself! I made a commission order recently, the lovely living dead kitty wearing the clown suit? That's me!"

He was shaving his legs as he talked, not that they had any hairs on them. He waved the shaving cream covered implement about as he talked, flinging the white substance about the room. He went back to shaving in between bouts of flamboyant speech.

Flinching, she nearly dropped the phone at the sheer volume of the voice on the other side. After a quick recovery she brought it back to her ear, the non-damaged one. "Um, yes, this is she."

She started folding again as he talked. Turns out he was a commission buyer. "Oh! Well, nice to formally meet you, Shane." She cringed mentally, tossing her un-folded underwear to the side in order to turn and head toward the pile of canvases stacked against her wall.

"I guess you got my email? I just finished your piece yesterday." She'd shot him an email back letting him know that the piece was done and that his payment had gone through, and that she needed an address in order to be able to send it to him.

"Unfortunately i'm not able to run the work out too you, so I have to ship it. The cost of same day or overnight shipping is included in the original price, however. It won't cost you any extra."

A merry hum was heard when she mentioned his art was done. "Oh, Heidi, E-mail is for plebeians! I believe I left a note for you to call~" He hummed.

He ran the small blade against his carapace again, removing a line of shaving creme.

"Actually, I was hoping you could make an alteration to the piece, if you would be so kind! For an artist of your caliber I can only imagine this would be a breeze!" He spoke melodically, seeming fascinated, yet somehow disinterested at the same time. A true diva of a man.

"If you could add a classic circus ring leader into the back ground, with a monkey dancing for it, I would gladly add... 300 to the commission. High detail, please~"

He silently clacked his mandibles in anticipation. "I may have further revisions I need done, too. You can send text pictures to this phone number so I can keep up to date on the status!"

She blinked. It wasn't abnormal for people to request last minute alterations or additions. She was more surprised she'd missed his apparent note. "Oh! My apologies, I must have missed the note completely." She hustled over to her desk to write herself a note about calling him for the future.

"I can of course add that in. No problem, in fact." The background didn't really have much in it The whole concept kind of reminded her of one those old velvet paintings that had been so popular in the 70's.

Texting him her progress was... well, that was weird. She blinked and sat down on her bed, laundry currently forgotten. "I suppose I can do that." She started, "I'm not sure when I will be able to start on it again. I have another commission that I am currently working on. I may be able to pick it up in the next few days. I could send you a picture of it when I finish, if that works?"

She eyed the painting again, giving it a critical once over. There was enough space to add some more stuff, sure... but it would throw off the whole feeling she'd gotten set up for it. With a silent sigh, she reminded herself that this was exactly why she hated most of the people she got commissions from. They just couldn't make up their minds.