So anywho, my lovely princess finally got her first tattoo. (I'll be getting mine shortly, but it was her turn to go first.)

And herein lies a funny little story . . .

So we go in to the tattoo place, right? And Catherine tells the guy
behind the counter what she wants (triquetra) and where she wants it
(sternum) and follows it up with, "It's gonna hurt like a bitch, huh?

To which the tattoo guy goes, "Yeah, it is."

So she's nervous. Hell, she was already nervous, but now she's bordering on deep-seated fear.

She goes in back and I sit down behind the bald-headed, multiple hoop-
earring-wearing-biker-dude, this large, massive man who's waiting to get his fifty-fourth tattoo. ( I may be exaggerating, but so what?) He looks over at me and says, "I hope she has a high tolerance for pain. The sternum is the worst place to get one." He then pulls up his shirt and shows me the rose on his chest. "I cried like a baby," he says. "Tears were streaming down my face."

And we sit. I'm worried for her now.

And then, about two minutes later, we hear the buzz of the tattoo gun.

Silence.

The buzz again.

More silence.

A third time.

And then, from outta the back, Catherine's voice: "Is that all it hurts?"

I look over at the big, bulky, did I mention he was huge biker dude
and say, "Guess that answers our question, huh?"

I'm not sure he was terribly pleased at that moment, but I'm, oh yes,
I'm still giggling.

Joseph Haines, signing off from The Edge of the Abyss.