Tuesday, November 15, 2011

In the End

By Jane Calfee

What started with a brave plan, ended in a silent gasp. Nothing. Empty. Blank.

His sturdy black boots stepped through the tinted glass door. He jumped at the sound of the bell, alerting the clerk that he had entered. Standing in awe at all the choices, he immediately looked down. He noticed an array of black, long, perfect finger nails. Intrigued, his gaze lifted up. His eyes met the  stare of the silent, strange woman with a distasteful look upon her face. She was covered and draped with so much jewelry that he wasn’t sure she was a real woman or just a jewelry display.

            “Can I help you?”  She spoke as if she knew he had no business being in her establishment.

“Yes. I am here to be marked, branded. I mean, I want one of those…”

The snickers from his so-called supporter started. Trying to divert, he noticed that not only was this woman covered in man-made things, but nature had chosen to give her freckles as well.

“You got freckles on you but you’re pretty.”  His emphasis on the word “but” implied a grammatical shift in the statement, not actually stating that she had freckles on her butt, but suggesting it.

The woman, not amused continued to the back room in order to start the procedure. She brought up prices and encouraged him to make a decision. Hours went on and still – no decision.

 “Do you know what you want??” She had asked at least 10 times, and this time she was about to kick him out if he didn’t make up his mind.

 “No, I am not quite sure. Just give me something unique, somewhere where only “CERTAIN” people can see it.”

            They agreed on the upper left part of his rear. She had suggested a fighting cheetah, with fangs and blood. He was overly ecstatic with the suggestion, and yet it didn’t stop the hours of screams, groans and many SOB’s. Then it was over; the mark, the brand, the tattoo that would signify him forever was completed.

            He turned to look in the mirror. He gasped. Silence. He always had a comment, a joke or at least a word for everything, but this was it. He had met his match. He continued to stare at the forever black inked lettering on his rear.

            Staring back at him in the mirror read, “You got freckles on your……” with small brown specks placed perfectly all around the words.

He had finally got his in the end, literally.


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