Challenge

Kate was happy to have her family all together for once. It was lunch time and they were all seated around the table enjoying their favourite meal: ham salad rolls. She felt like a mother hen with all her young safe under her wing.

Dennis was in deep concentration, attempting to eat his roll without spilling anything. There was a quiet plop as a piece of tomato hit the plate followed by a muttered, “Bugger!”

Simon and Matthew, his two sons, glanced at each other and chuckled.

Simon, the cheeky one, enquired, “Are you okay, Dad? I hope your coordination is up to coping with that roll. Perhaps you ought to learn how to juggle.” He grinned broadly. “It must be awful to become old.”

His father mumbled something that started deep down in his chest cavity, too deep for comprehension.

Matthew grinned and waited. He knew he could stir his Father again. Simon knew he’d now hooked his Dad. It was time to play him before reeling him in.

“Dad, now you are over forty, looking back, have you ever done anything exciting in your life?”

Kate’s eyes gleamed at the repetition of the question. It had been made to her husband at least once a month over the course of the past year.

Dennis looked at his family, took a deep breath, and remarked, “Of course, I have! Haven’t I told you of the time I nearly killed the Governor General?”

Simon kicked Matthew’s shins under the table, warning him not to say anything to spoil the fun.

Simon adopted an expression of complete innocence. “No, Dad! I believe you never have. I would love to hear about it.”

Dennis looked around and mused, “I thought I’d told somebody...”

Matthew would have loved to say he had heard it so many times, but he could feel his brother’s eyes boring into him. He glanced at his mother, who just smiled innocently.

Matthew gagged on a chuckle, and had to take a quick drink of water. Simon remained in complete control, for he was enjoying the situation, watching his mother, as she did her best not to laugh.

Dennis cleared his throat, “It was years ago, when I was just an apprentice learning my trade. I was transferred every month to different work environments to learn all aspects of horticulture. When June arrived, I was assigned to Government House.” He paused to give his audience time to absorb the importance of what he’d just said. To make sure nobody had missed it, he added, “Yes, where the Governor General of Australia resides.”

No one said anything.

He then continued with his story. “At the entrance, you needed to pass a security guard at a boom gate. Here, they checked your car’s number plates. I was always nervous as I waited in case they would not have mine written on the register. The guards were armed...with machine guns which would make a awful mess of ones car’s duco.

“Anyway, my boss asked me to check the swimming pool behind the house every day. The process involved taking a small water sample and checking the acidity. A little of the crystals was added to a test tube. The water inside the tube changed colour and you then matched the colour with the chart provided. It told you if it was acid or alkaline. My boss showed me where the chemicals to correct the water acidity were in the shed. I felt very important as I tested the water every day.

“The chart told me to add acid, so I did!”

Dennis could scarcely stop himself from laughing aloud now.

Dennis put up his hand like a traffic policemen and said, “Wait! It becomes even funnier. I added acid for five days before I suggested to my boss that the test kit must be faulty because even though I had added three buckets of acid to the swimming pool, it still said to add acid. My boss could not understand why, so he went with me to try to fathom out the problem. He watched carefully as I carried out the test. When complete, I showed him the chart which showed that colour said to add acid. My boss almost fell into the pool, he laughed so much. He explained to me that ‘add acid’ was short for ‘additional acid’! This meant I was supposed to be adding alkaline to the pool. It was a blessing it was winter and only one brave guard was swimming in the outdoor heated pool. I shuddered and imagined the poor man diving into the pool and coming out the other side stripped of his flesh.”

The family laughed like a chorus of kookaburras.

Dennis once more concentrated on eating his salad roll.

In the ensuing silence, Kate gave a comfortable little sigh. All was calm again.

Simon finished his last small morsel of food and smacked his lips with satisfaction. He had eaten his roll with no spillage. He winked at his younger brother and looked at his father and said, “So, Dad, is that all you have done? That was years ago! What are you doing that is exciting at the moment?”

Dennis pulled back his chair, stood up and announced, “I have decided I will go and have a tattoo!” That should be exciting enough for them, he thought. “No, I will not go right away because some research needs to be carried out before I embark on this adventure.” He smiled and looked down at his family, who remained seated, somewhat shocked by this announcement, and walked outside to enjoy the day.

He sat down on the wooden bench in the filtered shade from the large gum tree and thought deeply what he had so spontaneously announced. He knew little about tattoos. He knew sailors who visited exotic ports and men in leather jackets who loved to be mounted on large throbbing motor bikes had tattoos. He shuddered when he thought about a needle piecing his flesh to create the design. And he had no idea what design he would have. He thought he might like to have a sexy lady in a bikini adorned on his chest, but Kate might not approve. He was not keen on the idea of having skulls or vicious creatures jumping out from his skin. It would be sensible to have a small tattoo first. He hoped he wouldn’t faint. He’d heard stories of big men throwing up and passing out when the needle first dug into their flesh.

He decided the best solution was to buy a magazine on the topic which should give him some ideas. Since it was such a beautiful day, he decided to walk to the shops.

At the newsagent’s he looked for tattoo magazines. There were isles of magazines of all sorts, but he couldn’t find what he wanted, so he asked a young female assistant.

The girl became embarrassed and pointed in their general direction. He noticed the area she directed him to had a number of men flicking through magazines. He relaxed. He was not the only one searching for a tattoo. He looked over the shoulder of one man and, to his horror, noticed he was earnestly regarding a nude lady lying rather indecently on a couch. He stepped back in quickly and saw many magazines of partly clad ladies on their covers. He was relieved when he noticed magazines with the word ‘Tattoo’ on them. His hand darted quickly and grabbed one and headed to the cash register. He hoped the girl he saw earlier would serve him so she would realise he was indeed after a tattoo magazine.

Alas, it was not to be. The young man who served him gave a snort when he handed over the magazine.

Dennis asked for a bag for his purchase and quickly returned home with it.

Once back in the safety of his refuge, the bench seat under his favourite gum tree, he started to read about what he’d so impulsively let himself in for. He was amazed when he read that the first tattoo was discovered in ancient Egypt over four thousand years ago. He became immediately interested in an article on side shows where many people with tattoos sheltered from the masses who did not understand the enjoyment of having a tattoo.

Another article discussed the dangers of having a tattoo if you were a primitive Maori. Apparently, the primitive tools gouged out flesh to be able to apply the ink to the wound. On occasions, the skull of the patient was cracked. They would often die from the force which had been inflicted on them.

Page twenty five discussed tattooing in Ancient Japan. The needles often were in a cluster containing as many as forty. They also had other instruments with five needles fastened to bamboo or ivory handles with thread. The pain when applied was intense. So intense, the inks were laced with cocaine.

He was happy it was now modern times and hoped things were more sophisticated. He found an article on the tattoo machines used today. The needles moved in and out of the flesh, one thousand to three thousand times a minute and penetrated less than a quarter of a millimetre. He felt a little queasy and wondered if maybe he had made the biggest mistake of his life. It seemed that the tattooist used an instrument of two to four needles together to create the outline of the design, but for the shading, an instrument comprising of six to twelve needles was used.

He shuddered involuntarily. He hated needles, even one at a time!

The last pages were dedicated to photographs of people proudly displaying their tattoos. Some were vibrant with colours while others were just a design in black ink. He noticed that both males and females appeared to have chosen similar designs.

He went inside to find the rest of the family, and found them seated around the television watching cricket. He looked in disgust and said, “Not the bloody cricket again!”

They all glared at him like dogs guarding a large bone and made together strange grunting growling noises which translated said, “Leave us alone. We have watched for one hour and not a run has been made yet.”

He smiled and announced carefully, “I have decided to have a tattoo of a flash done. If I can find a suitable flash to bring out the hidden me.”

Three pairs of eyes focused on him. The television continued to flicker in the background, momentarily forgotten. Dennis was enjoying the moment of attention and so was in no rush to explain. He strode over to the television and carefully turned it off. He anticipated protest from his family, but there was none.

”Now I have your attention,” he said in a quiet voice, “I shall tell you what a flash is! They are tattoo designs which you can buy. They always change the design slightly so no two tattoos will be the same!”

“Is that all they are!” said Simon, who irritably turned the television on again.

His family’s lack of interest didn’t discourage him, so he took himself off to his den and started to check the Internet for tattoos.

+ + +

The next morning saw Dennis at a tattoo parlour. He was nervous because he did not own a motor bike or enjoy doing the jig on the high seas. He was nervous as he climbed the stairs in case a gang of bikers came charging down like boulders in an avalanche. Reaching the top, a closed door blocked his progress. He could hear the buzz of a tattooist’s needle, but no screams or yells from a victim undergoing extreme torture. He opened the door and peered in. Two people were being tattooed. Two men had their shirts off, their eyes looking blankly into the distance as their tattooist lent over them in deep concentration.

He was not sure if he should enter until one tattooist stopped his instrument and said, “Its okay, you can come in. Have a look around. If there is anything you like we can organise a time for you to have your design done.”

Dennis gave a sigh of relief at the friendly reception he had received. On the wall, were the flashes he had read about. He had even seen a few in the magazine he had purchased the day before. Many designs, he considered, were horrible and poorly drawn. He was not sure if he would find a design he liked. After looking at many flashes he noticed a design which depicted a Chinese dragon. He thought that would look great on his shoulder blade. Above each flash was the price, and this one was only seventy-five dollars!

He looked at the two tattooists, who were working methodically away. He realised for the first time that one was a lady. She had a number of tattoos on her bare arms. The other tattooist was a man. A huge man, obviously a rider of a Harley! It didn’t take him long to decide he would prefer the lady to put the design on his body.

The male tattooist was saying to his client, “Yesterday, I had this guy come in wanting a tattoo with colour. Only a small design...thirty minutes work at the most. I did the outline, whilst this pathetic weakling screamed all the time.” He emitted a deep belly laugh. “Anyway, I finished the outline and only had to do the colour to complete it. This mongrel gets out of the chair and tells me it’s too painful. I tell him to sit down before I break his bloody jaw. That seemed to work, as he sat down so quickly you would think someone was under the chair pulling him back in.”

The lady tattooist finished working on her client and walked towards where Dennis was waiting. “Hello there,” she said. “What can we do for you? Are you serious about this?”

Dennis looked at her and replied, “I have always wanted a tattoo. I have even researched a little. I find it all very intriguing. I would very much like the flash here of the small Chinese dragon.”

She seemed to approve of his choice. “Yes that’s one of my favourite tattoos. Have you decided what colour, and where you would like it to be placed? We will need to book you in for it to be done. It should only take an hour to complete.”

He began to feel more comfortable with the situation, “Yes I have. I would like it on my right shoulder blade. I would like you to use red and orange. I am free Monday next week if you can fit me in.”

She laughed. “No problem at all, your tattoo is very small. How would two in the afternoon suit you?”

“I need to mention to you,” he told her, “that this will be my first tattoo.” He had now passed the point of no return. He would look a fool if he never turned up. Also he didn’t think she would be capable of breaking his jaw.

The appointment was noted down, and she ushered another person to her chair.

He left and quickly found a place to have a drink. A strong drink was required, a rum and coke. He hoped this would not turn into a disaster. He was happy with his choice and believed it would look strong, and might even give him some inner special strength. Some Japanese believe tattoos of dragons gave the wearer the strength and wisdom of a dragon. He chuckled as there were no dragons alive today so maybe they were not as powerful as they thought. He smiled, thinking his sons now wouldn’t be able to tease him anymore. This was far more exciting than almost killing the Governor General. That had been something he’d done by accident. This was by deliberate choice.

Monday arrived, and Dennis decided he would not go to work as today was a special day. He had lunch in town and was ready for his first appointment. He climbed the now-familiar stairs to the tattoo saloon and opened the door. He was a few minutes early. Both the tattooists were there, idly chatting to each other.

When the female tattooist noticed him, she said, “Hello! We were wondering if you would turn up? Many don’t, you know. They have cold feet at the last moment.” She smiled warmly, and then told him to be seated. “I will try to have you as comfortable as possible. Take off your shirt so that we can start.”

The other tattooist enquired to her, “Will you be okay alone with this one?”

Dennis was not sure if he was joking or being serious, but he was not brave enough to enquire what he meant by that remark. Instead, he removed his shirt and sat down on the large leather chair.

She began to tell him how the procedure was done. “There is no need to worry as I was a nurse before I did this. I have picked bigger guys than you off the floor. I will be sterilising the needles I will be using on you in an autoclave. The first step is to shave where the dragon is going to be on your back.”

She chuckled and brought out a safety razor from her drawer and began removing the small hairs on Dennis’s shoulder blade.

“Don’t be worried about fainting,” she murmured. I can tell if a client is going to faint because their skin becomes clammy. I will place a stencil to mark the dragon on your back and then I will use the instrument to copy the outline. If the pain becomes unbearable, please let me know and we can take a break. Everybody has a different pain barrier.”

She had him face the mirror to check if the stencil was in the right position on his shoulder blade and remarked, “It’s hard to move the design once I have inked it in with the machine, so you must be sure.”

Dennis confirmed that it was right. This tattoo was going to be on his back for some time. A lifetime, in fact!

Then she brought over a small plate with little vessels of ink. A black, orange and red ink in small containers for him to see.

She explained, “Years ago, they used the same ink and needles on everybody. They would only change the needles when they became too blunt. These days, what ink we do not use we throw away. That’s one reason why tattoos cost more these days. If I was going to do a design which covered all your back, I would have needles I would only use on you. However, I still would sterilise them every time before using them.”

Dennis apprehensively watched as the tattooist put on surgical gloves. Then she tested the machine to ensure it was working. The machine hummed into action and she nodded in approval to herself. Then he felt her hand on his shoulder blade as she said, “Okay now, I will ink a little for just a few seconds to see if you can handle it.”

Dennis nodded and hoped he would not faint. He felt a jabbing pain where the dragon was to go. It did hurt, but if he thought about something else it was bearable.

The machine stopped and there was silence. She enquired, “How was that? You seemed to be having no trouble at all.”

He nodded and relaxed and hoped it would be all over soon.

She explained, “I use Vaseline to stop the bleeding. It is no worse than a paper cut!”

He thought to himself, It’s easy for you to say! It’s not your body that’s being attacked by your metal monster.

The machine stopped humming and she said, “Okay, that the outline done! You are very good. I wish I had as many as quiet and still as you. I call some Mr Jelly, because when the needle touches a part of their body they move as if they were made of jelly. I’ll stop now and you can check what it looks like.”

He looked in the mirror and a Chinese dragon looked back at him.

“I will fill in the eyes last. It’s a custom that you do not do the eyes until the dragon is complete.”

He happily sat down again and let his mind drift away as she continued to colour in his dragon.

The machine stopped again and she smiled at him and announced, “That’s it! All is done! You are now a proud owner of a tattoo!”

I will put a bandage on it, which you need to keep on for one hour. The Vaseline will help to stop the bleeding. After one hour, you need to gently wash your tattoo with warm soapy water. Do not rub it. Just pat it clean and dry. There is no need to put a bandage on after you clean it.

I suggest applying some antiseptic cream every time after you clean it. I believe twice a day should be fine for about a week. After a few days, the skin will begin to scab and become very itchy. Do not scratch, or you will destroy the appearance of your tattoo. Just remember, sunshine will fade the colour in your dragon. Later, you should put on sun cream if it is exposed to the sun.

“By the way, my name is Carol. Maybe we will see you again some time.” She winked at him and said, “You do know we put cocaine in our inks, don’t you?”

He laughed and, after thanking her, walked out of the saloon, a marked man. But one who had finally done something exciting to take the smirk off his sons’ faces. But what Kate was going to say, he couldn’t imagine.