It was a diamond morning. I was feeling it. Great client. Married 25 years, getting his wife's name and boys initials on his calf. I was rushing because he told me he was off to the World Series game in the afternoon with his kids. Worked well -my lines were steady, my colors filled in well, and I got a hefty tip. Then the revelation that Tom was the Rev. Mr. Thomas Gregg of the West Charlton Presbyterian Church. We both had a chuckle over that. I went to Wendy's for lunch and came back ready to tackle anything.
Well, what I got was anything but what I wanted. Seemed like a nice polite soft spoken lady who wanted a lower back piece in black and purple. We prepped her up, got a good position and with the first swipe of the liner, she started groaning. Then moaning. Then whimpering. Gasping. Twitching. Swearing. My lines started tracking maps all around her design. I didn't really lose it until he husband came over to watch. With him hovering behind me, I started to sweat and bite my lip. Matt came by and I rolled my eyes and stared hard at him so he'd get the idea that I was in big trouble. I knew this was going to be a two hour tattoo which could easily turn into four hours or a total breakdown by the tattooist. Dear Matt whipped off the tribal section and left me with the color work. By the time I was done she was screaming in her husband's arms for me to stop. The whole shop was watching. It sounded like sex. By the time I was done, I was trying to hurt her.