This was just one of those ideas. One of those stories that gets folks giving me odd looks.
I wrote it after I'd got my first tattoo, without any real plan as to doing anything with it (the story, not the ink). I eventually submitted Tat as a comic script to an anthology thing that never happened. It was, however, drawn up by the amazing Kurt Belcher, and I later got it worded by Kim Roberts. So, here's the original story. I've add the lettered comic in at the end. 'Bout time folks got a look at it. :)
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Tat
“Five
five two, four six oh one; hello? Helen
Frazier speaking.”
“Hi
mum, how are you?”
“James! Hello!”
“Hi
mum. You gave the number out again. And your name.”
“Did
I?”
“Yes. You did.”
“Oh,
I’m sorry James. Just habit I imagine.”
“Well,
it’s…”
“I
know, I know. It’s a security
thing. You’ve said.”
“It
is, mum. Really.”
“I
know, I’m sorry. I just forget. It’s automatic.”
“Leave
yourself a note by the phone or something.”
“I
will dear. I promise. You can check when you come here on Monday.”
“Yes,
about that…”
“You’re
not cancelling again are you?”
“No
mum, I’m not.”
“Well,
that’s a relief. I haven’t seen you in
ages.”
“I
know, I’m sorry. Things have been busy
here.”
“I
understand. So. What about Monday?”
“Well…
Look, I know you don’t like them, so I thought I’d better give you warning.”
“Don’t
like what, dear? Oh, you’re not bringing
those two friends of yours, are you?!”
“No
mum, I’m not bringing Deryk and Andy.”
“Thank
goodness for that.”
“I
don’t speak much to them these days anyway, so there’s no worries there.”
“Fine,
so what is it you are warning me about?”
“I
have a tattoo, mum. I had it done a few
days ago.”
“…”
“It’s
not a huge one, but I have to let it breathe so you’ll be able to see it when I
come over.”
“Oh
James…”
“It’s
not a big deal, mum. Really. It’s on my arm so I’ll be able to cover it
for work when I go back.”
“Fair
enough, I suppose. I’ll be kind. You know me.”
“I
do, mum, that’s why I thought I’d better call first.”
“Thank
goodness Mrs Taylor isn’t here at the moment.
Goodness knows what she’d say.”
“I
can imagine. Anyway, I’d better go. Do you want me to bring anything on Monday?”
“I
don’t think so dear, but call before you set off just in case. I might need milk or something.”
“Will
do, mum. Have a good weekend.”
“I
will, dear. Love you.”
“And
you, mum. Bye for now.”
“Buh-bye
dear. Buh-bye.”
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“Hello? Hele…
I mean, eh, hello?”
“Hi
mum! See, that was better!”
“Yes,
well, I am trying to remember. I have a
note here to myself and everything.
You’d be very proud.”
“I
am, mum. Always.”
“That’s
a very sweet lie, dear.”
“Heh! Anyway, I’m about to set off. Do you need anything?”
“No,
dear. I think I have everything. I got some groceries yesterday.”
“Ok,
mum. I’ll see you in a little bit.”
“Oh-kay
dear. See you soon. Buh-bye.”
“Bye
mum.”
“Buh-bye.”
-------------------------------------------------------
“Hello?”
“It’s
me, mum. James.”
“Hello
dear. I’ll just buzz you in.”
"Thanks,
mum.”
“Mum?!”
“I’m
in the kitchen dear! Be there in a
moment. Sit yourself down.”
“Will
do.”
“Did
you see Mrs Taylor as you came up?”
“No. I thought she was away?”
“She
was. She came back earlier than
planned. Last night.”
“How
come?”
“Oh,
some problem with the hotel. You know
how fussy she is.”
“Yeah. I’ve met her, remember?”
“That’s
right. Now. Here we are.
I got some of those…”
“…”
“…”
“Look,
it’s not that bad, mum. It’s high
enough…”
“James…”
“I
can cover it for work, mum, really.”
“James. What the hell is that?”
“It’s
my tattoo, mum. Like I told you on the
phone.”
“James…”
“Really,
mum. It’s not a big deal.”
“James. What are you…? I mean…”
“It’s
just a tattoo, mum. Lot ’s
of people…”
“It’s
a dog!”
“Mum,
it’s a tattoo!”
“It’s
not a tattoo James!! It’s a bloody dog!”
“It’s
a dog tattoo, mum.”
“It
is not! It’s a dog, James. It’s an actual living, breathing dog!!!”
“…”
“I
mean… What…? Look at it!!
It’s a dog!”
“…said
you wouldn’t understand…”
“Understand
what?!!! It’s a… You have a dog strapped to your arm!!”
“It’s
a tattoo! A dog tattoo!”
“It
bloody isn’t!”
“Mum! There’s no need for that language…”
“Oh
be quiet, you silly bugger!”
“Mum!!”
“Oh
look, just take the poor thing off. You
shaved it and everything!”
“I
did not… Look, it’s a tattoo. You can’t just take it off!”
“James,
for the last time! It is not a
tattoo! It is a dog! A Yorkie I think. Poor little thing. Let me just…”
“Mum! Leave it!
You’ll break the scab and all the ink will run out!”
“What
are you talking…? Look, James…”
“I
think I’d better just go, mum.”
“No,
James, we need to take that poor…”
“Mum. Look, I’m going. You’re getting upset.”
“Upset!!!! My son comes in with a bloody dog tied to his
arm...”
“…”
“Where
are you going? Don’t just… James?!
James!”
-------------------------------------------------------
“…”
“…”
“Told
you she wouldn’t understand.”
“Look,
leave it.”
“Told
you.”
“Leave
it!”
“…”
“Better. Let’s just get the bus and go home.”
“Fine.”
“Be
quiet.”
“…”
“I
told you before.”
“…”
“Tattoo’s
can’t talk.”
“Says
you.”
“Yeh,
says me. And don’t forget it.”
“…”
“I
can still get laser surgery, you know.”
“Now
you’re being nasty.”
“Hey!”
“Sorry,
sorry. I’ll be quiet.”
“Should
think so.”
“…”
“…”
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