The Tattoo….

It would appear that I have put this task off as long as is dragonly possible.

Some weeks back, we made, alas, an  appointment at L’idiot Douleur for  Skosh to get his much-desired…gag…tattoo.  I have since then found many and varied methods of putting this disaster off, feigning every malady I could dream up from the common cold to leprosy, but Skosh has seen through my last three attempts and has become increasingly more irritable with every passing day until finally a small tantrum on his part  cost me a set of drapes and caused me to cave. The ‘tktktktktkkkkkkkTTTKKKK!!’ I can live with, but a gout of flame is not acceptable.  So.  Off we went to visit the annoying and arrogant Francois.

Skosh decided that although a tattoo in the style of Monet would be an intellectual addition to his backside (not to mention extensive bragging rights) it would not be the desired manner of exhibiting his undying devotion to his comely, if somewhat fluffy, Heather. Therefore, he opted instead for a copy of the portrait  that I drew of Heather for her birthday. So, with much harrumphing and snorting from Francois, we gathered in the largest room in the tattoo parlor and with inks and needles at hand, Francois set to work but not before he had whispered in an aside to me that the scales that had to be removed would, indeed, grow back and cover the tattoo if that was my eventual desire.(Shhh. Skosh doesn’t know this.)

At first, things went well since at the start of the operation several scales did have to be removed from the underside of skosh’s tail to bare the….skin?…beneath to afford a smooth surface for the art.  this proved to be painless and a delight for Heather, who gathered the brightly colored and shiny objects to her bosom for a collection of memorabilia that they have begun as a kind of pre-pre-pre engagement album…but if I know Heather, she may be saving them for a later attempt at consumption.  ugh…but Heather does view just about everything as a possible comestible.  We are still working on that diet.

For awhile things went along quite nicely, with only an occasional elvish obscenity from Skosh whenLe Maitre hit a nerve….but then, a little bluish green liquid began to appear under the needle.  Skosh refused to breathe even a dot of smoke since he wanted Heather to think he could really man(?) up under the pain involved, But Heather was not fooled for long and began to twitter nervously.   Soon the twitters became tweets, which rapidly morphed into squawks of dismay and she began to lift into the air as the needle sounds became louder and more insistent.  Poor Heather had never seen dragon blood before but  she, by god, knew it when she saw it, and quickly became hysterical. Just as the tattoo was in its final stages, there was a resounding crash and tinkle of needles and inkpots hitting the floor, followed by a floppy THUD, announcing that  Heather had fainted dead away.

Poor Skosh.  he dithered and fluttered around her recumbent form much as she had been around his not a moment earlier, and Francois, apparently used to this type of thing, grunted disgustedly and handed me an antique fan which Skosh seized and began to wave about Heather. This did absolutely nothing except to make him more excitable.  Knowing what was about to happen and fearing for M. Francois’ parlor, I grabbed Heather and ran for the door with Skosh hot on my heels and we headed for home at a frantic clip.

That was some hours ago, and we have all calmed down to a manageable level.  I have banished Skosh to his room with the water heater blanket around his head, and am being treated to muffled mutterings and  ‘tktktktktkrrrrrr’s. But at least home and possibly hearth are out of immediate danger.  Heather is in my bed, covered with her favorite satin quilt, and has whispered weakly in my ear that it would help her recovery immensely if she could possibly have a Little Something to ward off further weakness, and did I by some miracle have a pound or two of gummi worms about my person?  Most of us first sit up, and then take on nourishment,  but Heather would prefer to tuck in before taking such a rash action as sitting.  She is, as we have mentioned, rather overfond of her intake, and after all…..a chick can’t be too careful.     -Posted by Susan

Find strange art by Susan and Dennis at Galerie Yggdrasil


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2 Responses to “The Tattoo….”

  1. Jeanne Desy Says:

    I love the sounds Skosh makes, but the tattoo is a big mistake. Oh well, that’s the folly of young love.

  2. susan owen Says:

    ah, but jeanne, the scales will grow over the tattoo and no one will ever know. this may irritate skosh, and i am waiting to put up the new set of drapes against a new tantrum when he discovers this. his love for heather is of, i believe, a long lasting variety since dragons of his kind are fiercely loyal….it’s heather i worry about. high school chicks, you know. gah. tktktktktkt*RAHHHHHHRRR..* UH OH.

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