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Most of my tattoos are small, but the smallest one I got for free. One night, working the door for some techno party at a club in greenpoint, this guy hit on me most of the night. Since I was working and handling cash I didn’t drink much and when he offered drinks at his place afterward I figured why not. He was kind of cute anyway. Though he didn’t tell me his place in Staten Island until after we were in his car.

So on the way there we talked shit for a while. He told he was a tattoo artist, the shop he was working at just closed down. So he was looking for a new shop doing some work in out of his house.

“So are you any good?”

“Good at what?” he asked with a silly grin on his face.

“Tattoos. Your tattoo’s, are you good? What else would I be talking about?”

“Oh yeah that. Of course I’m good. I’m good at everything I do.” he joked.

“Than you should give me one.”

“I should just give you one. You know that’s how I pay my bills. And I have plenty to pay.”

“Please. You should be happy to have your work on this body. Besides it would make up for taking me to this fucking island.”

“What you don’t like Staten Island?”

“Not really. It’s a fucken dump.” I looked out the window for a “It could be something small. It wont take long.”


“What do you want?”

“A small black heart on my hip.” Thinking for a second I remembered the main female character of a book I recently read, “Heart Shaped Box.” Though I barely remembered the book, I had remembered liking that idea for a tattoo of my own. I also thought it would be a quick and easy tattoo. I was even hoping to get it that night, then I wouldn’t have to see him again. I knew I’d get tired of him quickly. And that’s exactly what he did. It less than an hour. I was able to have a couple of drinks and crash. Made him drive me home the next morning. I never saw him again. I think I said I’d call him, or he was supposed to call me. Whichever, it never happened.