Mr.Art

Thank you all for tuning in with us today on "Badger Radio," whether you're listening at home or heading home this Sunday evening. We invite you to listen as we interview the original survivor of the notorious and now deceased serial killer known as Mr. Art.

Thank you for agreeing to meet with us today, Mr. Richard, the radio host said.

And thank you for having me. But you can call me Richie; Mr. Richard was my father.

Well, Richie, you have been brought in today because you have finally agreed to share the raw, unfiltered story of Mr. Art.

Yes, I have, and yes I am. But before I tell you my story of meeting "him," I need to tell you about my grandmother. She loved paintings, but the one thing she loved even more than paintings —after God —was us—my sister Jasmine and me, Richie.

20 years ago, June, Summer, 1990, NYC.

Richie! Richie! Richie's grandma called out.

Yes, Grandma, Richie answered.

Get down here, boy, breakfast is ready.

Coming, Ma'am, " Richie said, grabbing his Polaroid camera as he left for the kitchen downstairs.

Here! Go ahead and eat up while I try to find your 'who thinks she's a grown-ass woman' sister, Richie's grandma said, setting down his plate and heading outside to wait for his sister.

(screech)

A BMW pulls up to their front door, blasting music from its radio, as laughter comes from inside.

Stepping out of the car, Jasmine wore a tube top, jean shorts, and heels, with large tattoos covering her back and lower right thigh. She laughed, but her smile quickly faded when she made eye contact with her grandma.

So, which one is this? Jasmine's grandma asked, "The Miami doctor or the big-time rapper from L.A.? You know, it starts to become impossible to keep up when they change every day," in a sarcastic tone.

Ignoring her Grandma's comment, Jasmine pushed past her and went upstairs.

Oh! So, you're just going to ignore me, Girl, who the hell do you think you are! Their grandma said in a heated tone.

"There was a time when my sister and Grandma got along, but that was before our parents separated, when our father ran away with and married a successful female lawyer who was our mother's childhood best friend. After that, our mother lost all hope in love, dropped us off at grandma's one day, and never returned. Since then, my sister has developed certain issues related to our father".

Grandma! I finished my food, so may I be excused to play outside with my friends? Richie asked.

Sure, Richie, but make sure you put your dirty dishes in the sink before you leave, be back before the streetlights come on, and show what new rugs Ms. Flowers has at the flea market.

Alright, bye, Grandma. I'll be back with some samples from Ms. Flowers' stall, Richie said, putting away his dishes and heading outside.

"During the summer, whenever I told my grandma I was going to play with my friends, I lied because I never actually had any. Instead, I just rode around the neighborhood on my bike, taking pictures of people and things I found interesting, and I would find most of my inspiration at the flea market in the Grand Bazaar".

Hopping on his bike, Richie rode to the Flea market to meet at Ms. Flowers' stall for new paintings.

Hey, Ms. Flowers, do you have anything new in stock? Richie asked.

Hey there, lil'Richie. Yeah, I got some new ones I just finished last night, ready for you to take a picture of to show your grandma. And by the way, how is your grandma? Ms. Flowers wondered.

Oh, good, but my grandma is not doing so well at the moment because she's been butting heads with my sister a lot lately.

Well, that's teenage girls for you. You know what? How about a free painting on the house for your grandma, from me, as a thank you for being my best customer? I even wrote my home address on the paper in case your grandma ever wants to get first pick on one of my paintings, Ms. Flowers said with a wink in her eye as she handed Richie a painting wrapped in paper tied with yarn to carry.

"You know, it's funny that, for how kind, friendly, and open-minded Ms. Flowers was, I never bothered to learn her real name because the name Ms. Flowers came from me calling her that, by the tattoo on her arm of a potted red tulip plant".

Oh, thanks, Ms. Flowers. "My grandma is going to love this," Richie quickly said, turning around and bumping into a man behind him wearing a sun hat with a net attached, covered in dried red spots, while the hat's shadow concealed his eyes.

Woah! "Watch out, there, little man. I wouldn't want you to get hurt. I see you got a painting there; let me give you a hand," the stranger said as he helped Richie tie his painting to his back and continued his business at Ms. Flowers' stall.

Cool, thanks. I will. Richie spoke before taking a picture of the stranger. He grabbed his bike and rode back home.

Grandma! Grandma! Look at what I got for free at Ms. Flowers stall today, Richie announced, running into the house with the painting.

Hey! Hey! Hey! No running in the house, boy, now, tell me what the noise is all about? Richie's grandma asked.

When I went to the flea market to meet Ms. Flowers about the new paintings she made, she gave me this painting as a gift for you, Richie said, showing it to her.

Wait, you went to her stall, and she gifted you a painting. Why?

I mean, we just talked about what was going on in my life, like how you and Jasmine weren't getting along.

Richie! What the hell did I tell you about telling strangers what goes on in this house? Richie's grandma said in an irritated tone.

Even though I was just answering Ms. Flowers's question.

Richie, I know, but the last thing I need is a stranger's pity, especially while I'm dealing with your sister's attitude. So next Sunday after church, you're going to go to her stall, give her the painting back, and say, "Thanks for the gift, but we don't need any handouts." Richie's grandma said angrily.

But that's exactly why she gifted it to you to make you feel better about everything that's—Boy, don't argue with me. Just do it! Richie's grandma said, going into the kitchen to start dinner.

Next Sunday... After walking back from church, Richie and his grandma arrive home.

Now, Richie, before you change out of your church clothes to go outside and play with your little friends, I want to remind you that I was serious about what I said last week. Before you meet up with your friends, take that painting to the flea market and return it to Ms. Flowers' stall without any unnecessary conversation. Got it? Richie's grandma explained.

With a heavy head, Richie went upstairs to change, came back down, had his grandma retie the painting to his back, and left back outside to the flea market.

"If that day, I knew I would be meeting a monster in disguise, I would have burned our home down to protect my family from the horrors that would come later upon us."

Arriving at the flea market, Richie finds Ms. Flowers' stall empty as he carefully looks around for her.

Hey, there champ! A voice suddenly says as a hand grabs his shoulder, spooking Richie.

What? Richie said, jumping from shock, nearly knocking over his bike, and falling to the ground.

Sorry to scare you, little guy. Did you need something? a stranger asked.

Um, yeah, I was wondering, what happened to the stall of the woman who sold paintings here? Richie asked.

Oh! You must be Richie, my aunt mentioned you before she departed, the stranger replied.

Departed? You mean, she—Oh no, she didn't die, she just started early retirement.

Well, if your aunt was going to retire, why didn't she say anything to me last week? Richie wondered.

Hey, I'm in the same boat as you, kid. One day, she just called me out of the blue, said she was done, and as her only family, I was obligated to come and take over, Ms. Flowers' nephew stated.

Weird, for how friendly and open to conversation Ms. Flowers was, she never mentioned having a nephew, Richie pondered.

Anyway, I see you have a painting there. You didn't come all the way here to return it to her, Ms. Flowers' nephew said jokingly.

Oh no, I just came to tell her that my grandma liked the painting and wanted to say thank you, Richie said as he prepared to leave back home.

Kid, wait! Since this is my first time in New York City, I was wondering if you could tell me about any cool places here and maybe help out at the stall sometimes. You could earn some money over the summer, usually between 30 and 50 dollars each week, plus you could get some free paintings for your grandma. I'm asking because, from what she told me, your grandma was her best customer. Ms. Flowers' nephew suggested.

Seriously? Hell yeah, sir. I-I mean, yeah, yeah, I will. Don't tell my grandma I said that, Richie said in a panic.

Heh-heh, don't worry, I won't. And you don't have to call me sir—just call me Mr. Art, he said, chuckling to himself.