the shoulder. “Okay, okay!” Thomas pleaded,
turning his friend back around to face him. “I'll explain it was
all a joke. Scouts' honor.” Thomas held up three fingers on his
right hand.
“Scouts' honor?” Dorian asked. “And why the
hell are you holding up your fingers?”
“It's the boy scout
salute.” Thomas informed Dorian, who just stared back clueless.
“It's a group for adolescent boys who teach useful skills and
instill honor and virtue – like how to build a fire and help the
elderly. I was a member in my youth. I probably still have the
uniform.”
The image of a young Thomas dressed in a
uniform helping an old lady with her groceries was too much. Dorian
bent over laughing, clutching his abdomen. After catching his
breath, he joked, “Well, they failed because you don't have any
honor.”
“Ha, that's true,” Thomas retorted, flashing
his fangs, happy to be the butt of the joke if it improved Dorian's
mood. “Let's go back in. You don't even have to get tattooed, just
stay and enjoy the show with me.”
“Fine.” Dorian balked, removing his friend's
hand yet again from his shoulder.
“Fantastic!” Thomas clapped. “You're going
to enjoy what's on the menu for this evening.”
Both vampires headed back to where the
tattoo artists had been left waiting; Thomas wearing a smile,
Dorian, a frown.
“Looks like I'll be the only one getting
tattooed this evening. My friend has had a change of heart,” Thomas
informed his audience. He perused countless pictures of past client
tattoos plastered all over the walls. “Hmm. No. Maybe.” Circling
the entire room at least twice, he appeared to be giving much
consideration to his pick. “I know,” he announced, ending his
second trip around the room. “Since I appreciate a good laugh,
mostly at the expense of others, how about an evil jester? What do
you think Dorian? Wouldn't that embody my personality
perfectly?”
Tired of Thomas' games, Dorian only shrugged
his shoulders, not seeing a point to his friend's elaborate
display. Definitely a charmer, Thomas always had the lesser
species, as he lovingly called them, fawning over him within
minutes. These two unfortunate souls would be no different.
“But where should it go? Any thoughts?”
Thomas glanced at Dorian questioningly, only to receive a blank
stare. With his left hand hiding his mouth, he whispered in the
direction of the female, who giggled, but had so far not said a
word. “I guess he is still a little peeved at me over the
homosexual puns earlier. Thomas pulled off his shirt and jumped
into the seat. “Come on, Tiny, let's get started.”
“My name is Leslie,” corrected the oversized
pin cushion.
“Okay,” Thomas smirked.
That explains a
lot.
“How about an extra hundred if I can keep
calling you Tiny?”
“Whatever,” Tiny replied, shrugging his
shoulders.
Relaxing, Thomas leaned his head back. He
knew his was about to begin when he felt the needle pierce his
skin.
Just as Tiny finished the outline of a
jester on Thomas' upper right arm, he watched the ink disappear.
Rubbing his eyes, he inspected his tools to find everything
functioning properly.
Noticing the stall, Thomas spurted, barely
able to contain the pleasure of his performance. Like so many
predators, he loved to play with his food. “Is there a problem?” he
asked innocently.
Tiny stared at him unsure, shaking his head
slightly.
Thomas inspected his forearm where moments
before it felt like he was being attacked by an angry bee. Seeing
nothing but his flawless skin, he shouted, “What the fuck?! I'm not
paying you to poke me with your little prick for nothing.”
“Look man, I don't know what happened. As I
finished the outline of your tat, the damn thing faded before my
eyes. It looked like your skin just absorbed the ink.” Tiny
stammered, not believing the words exiting his mouth.
“Are you high? That's impossible,” Thomas
bellowed.
“Ashley, did you see that?” Tiny turned to
find
turning his friend back around to face him. “I'll explain it was
all a joke. Scouts' honor.” Thomas held up three fingers on his
right hand.
“Scouts' honor?” Dorian asked. “And why the
hell are you holding up your fingers?”
“It's the boy scout
salute.” Thomas informed Dorian, who just stared back clueless.
“It's a group for adolescent boys who teach useful skills and
instill honor and virtue – like how to build a fire and help the
elderly. I was a member in my youth. I probably still have the
uniform.”
The image of a young Thomas dressed in a
uniform helping an old lady with her groceries was too much. Dorian
bent over laughing, clutching his abdomen. After catching his
breath, he joked, “Well, they failed because you don't have any
honor.”
“Ha, that's true,” Thomas retorted, flashing
his fangs, happy to be the butt of the joke if it improved Dorian's
mood. “Let's go back in. You don't even have to get tattooed, just
stay and enjoy the show with me.”
“Fine.” Dorian balked, removing his friend's
hand yet again from his shoulder.
“Fantastic!” Thomas clapped. “You're going
to enjoy what's on the menu for this evening.”
Both vampires headed back to where the
tattoo artists had been left waiting; Thomas wearing a smile,
Dorian, a frown.
“Looks like I'll be the only one getting
tattooed this evening. My friend has had a change of heart,” Thomas
informed his audience. He perused countless pictures of past client
tattoos plastered all over the walls. “Hmm. No. Maybe.” Circling
the entire room at least twice, he appeared to be giving much
consideration to his pick. “I know,” he announced, ending his
second trip around the room. “Since I appreciate a good laugh,
mostly at the expense of others, how about an evil jester? What do
you think Dorian? Wouldn't that embody my personality
perfectly?”
Tired of Thomas' games, Dorian only shrugged
his shoulders, not seeing a point to his friend's elaborate
display. Definitely a charmer, Thomas always had the lesser
species, as he lovingly called them, fawning over him within
minutes. These two unfortunate souls would be no different.
“But where should it go? Any thoughts?”
Thomas glanced at Dorian questioningly, only to receive a blank
stare. With his left hand hiding his mouth, he whispered in the
direction of the female, who giggled, but had so far not said a
word. “I guess he is still a little peeved at me over the
homosexual puns earlier. Thomas pulled off his shirt and jumped
into the seat. “Come on, Tiny, let's get started.”
“My name is Leslie,” corrected the oversized
pin cushion.
“Okay,” Thomas smirked.
That explains a
lot.
“How about an extra hundred if I can keep
calling you Tiny?”
“Whatever,” Tiny replied, shrugging his
shoulders.
Relaxing, Thomas leaned his head back. He
knew his was about to begin when he felt the needle pierce his
skin.
Just as Tiny finished the outline of a
jester on Thomas' upper right arm, he watched the ink disappear.
Rubbing his eyes, he inspected his tools to find everything
functioning properly.
Noticing the stall, Thomas spurted, barely
able to contain the pleasure of his performance. Like so many
predators, he loved to play with his food. “Is there a problem?” he
asked innocently.
Tiny stared at him unsure, shaking his head
slightly.
Thomas inspected his forearm where moments
before it felt like he was being attacked by an angry bee. Seeing
nothing but his flawless skin, he shouted, “What the fuck?! I'm not
paying you to poke me with your little prick for nothing.”
“Look man, I don't know what happened. As I
finished the outline of your tat, the damn thing faded before my
eyes. It looked like your skin just absorbed the ink.” Tiny
stammered, not believing the words exiting his mouth.
“Are you high? That's impossible,” Thomas
bellowed.
“Ashley, did you see that?” Tiny turned to
find
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