Tattoo

Bell says: Sit here on the floor, as he preps the tattoo machine.

I look at the carpeted floor, which is covered in cigarette burns, cigarette ashes, and what I presume are puke stains.  But to be honest, that’s the least of my worries.

We’ve been drinking all night.  Five minute ago, we passed around the pipe and now I’m high.

There’s nowhere to lean my back against, I say.

I’m sitting on the couch, with Samantha and Chunky to my right—in that order.  Bryan is sitting to my left, on the floor, with his back to the couch.  On the bed across from us is Bell and Marshal.

Bell takes another pinch of shrooms from the bag and puts it in his mouth and says: Don’t be a pussy.  Just sit there.

But where will I put my back?

Bryan laughs.  Dude, it’s just a tattoo, it’s no big deal.

But I’m comfortable here.

Samantha and Chunky both laugh.

I can’t reach you, Bell says, if you sit on the couch.  You gotta sit on the floor.

But——

I can hold your hand if you want, Samantha says.  Chunky laughs again.

I don’t want you to hold my hand.  I want to be comfortable when I get the tattoo.  There’s nowhere to lean my back against.

I take a swig of the Jim Beam.

Eventually Chunky says: I’ll sit behind you.

I say: You’d do that for me?

Samantha looks jealous.  She takes a swig of the Jim Beam.

Bryan says: Hey, pass me the shrooms!

Bell hands it to Marshal, and he pushes Bell’s hand away.  Bell shrugs and chucks the bag across the room to Bryan.  Bryan takes a pinch and places it in his mouth.

Chunky sits on the floor, and I lean my back against hers.

Bell leans over me.  Do you know what you want?

I shrug.

Samantha says: Dude, you gotta pick something.  You can’t just leave it up to the artist.

I’ll do that, I conclude.

Do what? Bell says, as he holds the machine in the air like a pistol.

I’ll leave it up to you.

Me?

Bryan chimes in.  These shrooms are really good.

Samantha gives him the eye.

I mean, Bryan adds, Jeremy, you barely know this guy.  You can’t just leave it up to——  Dude, is that puke?  He stares down at a stain on the floor.

Bell presses the button and the machine rumbles.

You ready? Bell says.

I tap Chunky on her leg.  You ready? I ask her.

Yes!  She sounds annoyed.

Go for it, I tell Bell.

He touches the machine to my skin.  My arm rattles with pleasure.  I feel a sort of convulsive relief as he moves the machine in a straight line across my arm, then down.

Samantha stands up and looks at my arm.  What are you tattooing?

A swastika.

What??

I nod.  It’s okay, I’m pretty fucked up.

You know Jeremy’s Jewish, right? she says.

Bryan says: Why is there puke on the floor?

Samantha gives him the eye again.

Oh, right, he says.  Dude, that’s a dick move, he adds.

I say: I’m so fucked up right now.

Bell stops.

I say: No racist stuff.  Just Lethal Erection on the top, and whatever you want anywhere else—but no racist stuff.

No racist stuff, Samantha says.

No racist stuff, Bryan concludes.

They both look at Chunky, who is seated there behind me.

Don’t look at me, she says.

Marshal shakes his head and leaves the room, muttering: I knew I shouldn’t’ve let these guys use my house for this.

Bell starts again.  The machine buzzes across my arm as he doesn’t just make lines, but curves, and dashes, and dots, and scribbles, and skulls being smashed with hammers, and spiderwebs, and explosions, and of course, Lethal Erection at the top.

I smile.  Bryan and Samantha smile.

Chunky stands up and I fall backwards into a vomit stain on the floor.  My face connects with the oblong shape.

Bryan says: You want me to give you a ride home?

From my position on the floor, I tell him: Sure.