On the walls inside, there were posters of hundreds of images called “flash.” When I asked why they were called that, I was told “flash” was a term derived from a time when the art of tattooing was considered an elicit practice and artists had to work quickly to perform their work. Though scared to death, I entered the building. ![]() ![]() The sign said simply, “Tattoo Parlor.” Instantly, I pulled into the parking lot.Īt the time, I was 51. One day, I was driving and noticed a bright yellow building with a sign that caught my eye. I began raising a family and was busier than ever. One day, when old enough, I was going to get that tattoo.Īs life would have it, time went by and I forgot about the tattoo. She went ballistic and said, in her finest Southern drawl, “You’ll get a tattoo over my dead body!” I knew she meant what she said so I never mentioned wanting a tattoo again, but secretly kept the thought tucked in my heart. At the age of 15, I mentioned the desire to my mother. I don’t remember when the thought first entered my mind, but it must have been during my rebellious years.
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