TATTOO...OR NOT TO...that is the question. RIGINAL.
Walked into a tattoo shop today,headfirst...doesn't glass reverberate when you bang your noggin on a fake woman? Reversed, tried coming in the 'real' door. The first door was a tattoo. Unhinged needle operator with a glass of humour below the rest? I lie, Who would be silly enough to try to open the door handle on a fake door with a tattoo of a fake lewd woman with fake lewd breasts right where the handle resides? Enough to give one lock jaw.
Yep, you've got to get up pretty damn early to fool this renovator who hasn't washed for two days. Someone once said in a medical journal the act of washing deletes a certain protection off the skin. When you wash with a scented soap do you notice after a couple of washes the scent gives way to a bland smell rather like some supposed expensive 'enduring' perfumes with a blurb on the bottle by a famous actor who probably sprays the pussy cat with it then bathes in malted milk extracted and imported from a moulting Himalayabout (HER is not a layabout as she is looking after the kids?) goat. That's why famous rich people have large baths n' spa things so that they can get in with the goat. Hence the expression in downtown Hollywood on a review of their latest film released "everyone one of those critics is getting on my goat...i really LOATH milking the publicity...bad enough ME milking the goat as the wife is having an affair with the old one next door, we need the money to keep up appearances. Moulting goat herders charge like wounded bulls!" You see the pink- eyed moulting goat from downtown Hollywood has no idea when the malted milk is melting in the paunch so the actor must be patient and act the goat until the goat's eyes start to glaze over thus signalling it is ready to deliver de malt. Obviously not to be confused with the goat screwing one eye up,wriggling his backside and screeching as this is indicative of an impulse to urinate? This is only what i've been told because i don't move in goat circles or indeed act the...When we were kids Velvet bland van damn soap that was 6o grit sandpaper rugged was the order of the day/dog.. No smell, just a large block of tepid yellow no-frills soap. No fancy packaging, you just grabbed a block, rode it like a skate board home, washed it, greased the hinges on the flywire door. Washed the protesting family mutt with it; swearing when the protesting hound shook like a demented dervish caught in a tumble dryer...then your mum would wash the verbal sin outburst out of your gob with that very same soap, suicidal remnant reluctant soggy irate fleas attacking your face in a dying gesture of dogged defiance. Plus that early soap used to sting your eyeballs out. Like most soapies still do if you watch that garbage.
The tattoo chap engraver is an accomplished cartoonist. I told him i was thinking of getting a tattoo of an American Eagle on my arm. He said it would cost $250 which i know sounds like $25O but think about this. If i decide to visit America people will think i'm American and thus i could get a sitting in the President's nest so to speak...or even if i don't get to speak it's a talon in. The guy wanted to needle me there and then but i explained that i'd come back after i had a really good wash. He took his gas mask off, nodding in agreement. Actually i've got this brilliant idea. A Putin face on the inside of my elbow so hat when i'm drinking Vodka in Russia with Mr P and i bend my elbow his face will pull faces at the American eagle on my arm which is bound to raise a few feathers!
The only worry i can think of is that when i'm a rich and famous writer people will think i'm a hooligan who bangs his head on fake lewd women's cleavages...and i couldn't handle a woman like that. Must go, some old Maltese goat next door is moulting...banging on my door wanting his soap back. Honestly my life is like a bad soap opera. Doesn't matter how hard you try does it? Sometimes things just don't wash.