PART SEVEN OF “THE UNVEILING”
[Red displaying his new tattoo…]
Although Red looked a bit intimidating (to say the least) with his broad muscular back and “FUCK THE WORLD” tattoo, our courage was bolstered by bourbon and caffeine and sugar and loud music.
“Besides,” Mish said, “if he didn’t want people to see his tatt, why would he have his shirt off?” And as it turned out, he was friendly enough, just like everyone else in the crowd.
Mish wanted to mention that he ought to put some sunblock on his already heavily reddened back. But she held back. Smart move. Sunburn was the least of Red’s concerns.
Red’s tattoo was fresh and crisp and well executed. He’d only gotten it it a few weeks back.
Me: “And, ah, well, so, hmm, what does, I mean, what is the meaning, ahem, why those particular words…”
Red: “You mean, why FUCK THE WORLD? I had a bad week, that’s all. Hence: FUCK THE WORLD.”
He didn’t tell us why his week was so bad, but we believed him alright. His mate chimed in, jerking his thumb in Red’s direction. “He’s got nine lives, this guy!”
Apparently, a while back Red crashed his hotted up VS Holden ute into a pole on Eddystone Avenue. He’d been barrelling along at over 200 kilometres per hour. He didn’t have his seatbelt on, nor did his passenger. Both came out without a scratch.