I know this guy Bruce, but he doesn’t remember me. I’m glad Bruce doesn’t remember me, or he might not trust me to spend the next six hours putting a tattoo on his back.
Two years ago, I saw an ad in the paper that was too good to be true. Bruce was selling a 41” LCD TV for $300. I figured it was probably stolen, but I guess my moral compass wasn’t pointing too closely to righteousness for me to get a good deal on a TV. I went up to Bruce’s apartment in Sellwood to check it out. The picture looked good, and all the buttons on the remote worked, so I bought it. Then I took it home, and wouldn’t you know, the TV works great as long as you don’t have it on for more than 15 minutes and don’t try turning it on again for the next three hours. I tried calling Bruce to return the piece of shit, but he didn’t answer. Now I’m out $300 plus $25 to dispose of the fucking thing.
Of course, I get to now stencil something on Mr. Cheating-Fuck’s back. He wants me to put “THUG LIFE” in Old English letters from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. Now I know I can’t do something completely freehand, because he’ll see it in the mirror and kick my ass. I thought about hiding pictures of Hello Kitty or his face sucking a dick in one of the letters, but I can’t do that without tracing it first. So I decide to do the tattoo normally, and after six hours, Bruce is happy with my work and gave me a $100 tip.
In six months when the temporary ink I used for the letter “T” fades, I will have my revenge.
ooh! Great one! OUCH!
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