From a young age i always knew i was going to
get a lot of shit done, this is largely down to my brother.
His tattoos were about a thousand trillion times better than most peoples
shit i had ever seen.
In the ends we grew up in,
a lot of simple minded folk aquired ULTRA bate tattoos,
usually while they were still in high school.
Bulldogs wearing boxing gloves, blob-like tribal designs, panthers, dragons,
you get the picture.
After witnessing all of these dimwits utterly obismal scarifications,
and knowing, thanks to my brother, what a good tattoo looks like,
i made the conscious decision to wait until i turned eighteen to get
tattood.
Over the years that followed,
i got two sleeves done. One based on a character from Shogun Assasin/Lone wolf and cub,
and the other based on the anime Hokuto no ken/fist of the north star..
..but one arm had a little space left.
Back when i was living on my own in Queens in 2009,
i was missing my brother a lot.
It had been a good while since i had seen him,
and despite him driving me up the fucking wall most times
he is in my presence, annoying the hell out of me, rinsing all my shit
and being a bras cat (the list is endless)he is my brother and i love the
idiot regardless of the ludicrous fuckrie we got into..
At this time we were not in as good contact as one would
have hoped, i did hear from him now and again over email,
but still it wasn't enough.
We were both having a hard time dealing with certain shit
in my life, mainly being in a foreign country, running out of money
and finding it very hard finding work, and when i was in a bad way
he really helped me giving me positive advice and just being there for me.
I wanted to let him know that wherever i am in the world,
including being locked in this fucking dungeon, he is never far
from my mind and thoughts.
My office messenger job was throwing some extra hours my
way, with overtime coming in all over the shop too, for the first
time in my life i actually was saving money
:O
After a few micro seconds of contemplation, the decision was
made.
I would get a tattoo.
Why the fuck not.
I found a really good tattooist by chance while fuckin' around on
facebook, who was based in Nanuet.
i THINK that's upstate New York?
I forget.
It seemed like a bit of a mission to go up there to get it done,
but i love missions, so after a couple months saving, planning,
i was good to go..
When i get tattood,
i usually go out drinking the night before.
It's BEYOND retarded.
This type of idiotic tomfoolery has only ever left me feeling mad fragile
the next day..
..Having an extremely annoying buzzing sounds in your year and a guy scraping
away at your arm with various needles for hours at a time while hungover is
not the most enjoyable of experiences i can tell you..
..but i'm not the most intelligent of individuals either..
..So the night before, i got drunk.
Real drunk.
Not good.
I awoke the next day to a fucking ANIMAL headache,
and an extremely limited amount of time to get my ass
out of bed and on the road.
With only a few hours sleep under my belt,
a brainshattering hangover and armed with
a bottle of cold water to keep the ever-present
vomit that kept creeping up my throat on the train
at bay, i made my way to the city..
It was a beautiful day.
I had to get on a few different trains
to bop down to Nanuet.
The journey was super chilled, luckily i had good music to listen to
on the way there..
My hangover
seemed to disappear for a few hours while i stared
out the window at the passing scenery wondering what
the fuck i was even doing on a train in New Jersey in
the first place..
The journey required me to jump in a cab for twenty minutes
after the train too..LONG..i recall the cab driver who took me to
the shop having a striking aroma of sweat mixed with dog urine
and vinegar, and baring an uncanny resemblance to that guy who gives
John Candy and Steve Martin a lift in 'planes trains and automobiles'..
"Her first baby came out sideways, she didn't scream or nothin'"
Once i finally arrived, it was time to boogie.
The tattooist was tooo safe, and the
atmosphere in his shop was beyond chilled.
In short, the place was a fucking cotch.
I had sent him flicks of my sleeve weeks before
my appointment so he could work his design into the
overall look of the sleeve..
When he first put the design on, i thought it looked fucking huge..
..and most importantly, i didn't think i'd have the bread to cover
the time it would take to do it!
He assured me that we would work something out,
and that if it took longer than expected he wouldnt charge
me any extra..which was nice of him!
So with that, he got to work!
As i said,
the dude was safe as fuck.
We were catching fuckrie for most the time i was in there,
and the time flew by like it wasn't a ting..
..One story he told me was too jokes..
At the old shop he used to work at,
one day some really scrawny guy came in asking about
whether they would tattoo his dick.
The tattooist who was in the shop at the time told him
straight up, if he was going to be tattooing this guys cock
it would be a minimum charge of 500 dollars, no matter what
he wanted on there.
The potential customer agreed, made an apointment and
a few weeks later turned up to get his penis tattood.
..He's sitting in the chair looking mad awkward with his dick
out, the tattooist grabs his dick and as soon as the needle touches
his cock, the guy starts cumming everywhere and runs around the shop,
leaving the tattooist with a handfull of semen and no cash..
Jokes!
Anyhow..back to me in Nanuet..
Four hours later, the dude was done dunnin' the dance.
I didn't really get a good look at the piece until i got home,
i was in a mad hurry to get back to the city..
The train i was on actually broke down,
and i ended up having to get on a coach back to Manhatton..
A coach that was full of screaming children.
Joy.
Hours later,
i was finally home at my Turkish yard..
After a quick shower,
which included but wasn't limited to cleaning my
arm of dried blood and ink, followed by scrubbing my dick
and balls, i threw on some live garms and got ready
to head out the fuckin' door..
I was more than pleased with this new brotherly orientated
addition to my arm, despite first thinking it slightly resembled
a very large cabbage, after a couple hours i had made my mind
up that it was, in my opinion, ultra deep.
pure haps.
..And on a next hype,
which was a good thing considering i was heading out the door
to meet a seriously cute chick from england!
Nice
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