Old Coot tattoos are different. By Merlin lessler
Tattoos are quite popular these days. You see them wherever you go. – A name – a
scene – an animal- a symbol – some expression that tells, “This is who I am.”
Most of my old coot friends are tattoo free. We don’t decorate our skin; we
decorate our clothes.
I don’t know what’s going on here – my clothes seem to be
magnetically charged positive, while food and drinks are charged negative. As
soon as I get a roll of spaghetti wrapped around my fork, the attraction
process engages. I hardly lift it from the plate on a journey to my mouth and a
splash of spaghetti sauce flies over and lands on my shirt. I don’t notice it,
so the food stain imbeds into the fabric, later to be joined by salad dressing,
topped off with a smear of chocolate cake frosting.
My wife looks over at me, reports the stain process under
way on my shirt and I make a lame attempt to remove the stain by dipping my
napkin in water and have at it. Sometimes, a waitress notices what I’m doing
and brings over a small glass of soda water to help with the removal process.
It doesn’t work on magnetized old coot stains. A table mate digs in her purse
and hands me a Tide Stick. That doesn’t work either.
I leave the table, proudly sporting my new Old Coot
tattoos. Sometimes I attempt to cover them up with my arms, but I look like an
idiot with them draped at odd angles across my chest that yield strange looks from
the other diners. Some guys hike up their pants to cover up a stain. That’s why
you see some of them with their pants pulled up to their arm pits. I’m not
going to do that. I’m just going to proudly sport my “Tats” and show everyone I
went out to dinner.
Comments? Send to mlessler7@gmail.com
No comments:
Post a Comment