When Alison got the tattoo on her right buttock she was terrified her parents would find out. The tattoo was of a snarling snake crawling in and out of a skull. It was to let her ex-boyfriend know what she thought about him. How he would find out is anyone’s guess.
Alison’s parents had absolutely forbidden her to get a tattoo – “You can get a tattoo when you turn eighteen, but at present being only fourteen is too young to know what you want permanently on your arms.” But fourteen year old Alison took things into her own hands and got her buttock tattooed where no one could see – well not her parents anyway.
It was quite fun for a week at school, sharing with her friends and giving friends a peek. Rather quickly the admiration wore off.
When she turned eighteen Alison paid the earth to get the tattoo removed.
Franklyn had what seemed like a tiny tattoo between his thumb and forefinger on his left hand. It was more of a little scratch than a design. No one had really noticed it, except for Barbara. She’d asked Franklyn about it and he said that indeed it was a scratch. He’d been cleaning the wood burner, scratched his hand, and when the tiny wound healed it entrapped a bit of soot. Hence the tattoo.
Barbara had jokingly said that she never would have believed she’d fall in love with a man with a tattoo! And now she was invited to Franklyn’s twenty-fifth birthday party, and Barbara sensed that this was to be the big day. He would “pop the question”.
At the party there were quite a few familiar faces, and quite a few friends of Franklyn that she had never met before. Barbara moved through the room, introducing herself and, in fact, charming many. It was then she noticed something strange. Franklyn was not the only one with a tiny tattoo between his thumb and forefinger. Rick had one, as did Dave. Barbara quietly observed. In the end she counted eight guests, all males, with the tiny tattoo.
She asked Franklyn about it. That night, Barbara died in her sleep.
Neil had a problem. There was very little space on his body left for further tattoos. The problem was, his mother had died and he needed to honour her by using her ashes for a tattoo. His father’s ashes were used to tattoo his right arm and shoulder, and his brother the left. Two girlfriends covered his chest and torso, and an old, greatly-loved aunt filled the buttocks. Two of his numerous kids were on each leg. His best friend covered his back, and another ex-girlfriend did the neck.
And now his mother had upped and died and there were very few places left on his body.
“Stuff it,” thought Neil, “enough is enough.” He took his mother’s ashes and chucked them in the trash.
You’ve no idea how relieved his mother would have been.