"See him? He killed a man, you know."
I stood in line and tried desperately to ignore Corb's urgent whispering. After all, it's hard to talk about a suspected murderer when the murderer in question is actually your cashier, and you're the next customer in line.
"Usually he hides his teardrop tattoo with a tiny band-aid," Corb continued whispering, while I stood there, mortified. "I think I can actually see it today, though. Ted? Huh, Ted?"
"Shhhhh!" I said. "He might be able to hear you. You always do this."
"He cannot hear me! I swear, you worry about that way too much." I watched as a pout formed on Corb's upper lip. "Alright, fine. I just won't say anything."
Blessed, sweet silence ensued as we approached our murderer/cashier. He was a burly guy, about 22 years old, with a healthy mop of black hair and tattoos up and down his arms. And, there did appear to be a teardrop tattoo directly underneath his eye.
Nice guy, though. Corb made a silly joke about giving us a twenty dollar bill with our change. He laughed and said, "You want to get me fired?"
On the way out, we finished our conversation.
"Did you see that? It WASN'T a teardrop tattoo! It was just a New York Mets symbol."
"Unless that means that he killed someone who plays with the Mets," I said, suddenly not caring who heard me. "Not that THAT would be much of a loss..."
"I wonder why someone would put that under their eye?" asked Corb. "I mean, I guess I can see being a big fan and all that, but that thing's going to be with you for the rest of your life. Looks kind of ugly, to me."
What is the allure? Damned if I know. I like tattoos and all that, but that just seems a little beyond the pale, to me. Tattoos can actually be sexy, when used in moderation, but I kind of feel you should keep them below the neckline.
Really, when you get right down to it, is any sports team worth the effort of tattooing their symbol right underneath your eye? Personally, I don't think so. That's the first thing you're going to see when you go to brush your teeth in the morning, and the last thing you'll see when you take them out at night.
It might make it hard to get a job, too. At least with tattoos on your arms, you can wear long sleeves. But who wants to wear a bandaid on their face all the time? And also, what if you're at a job interview, a day in court, or on a blind date, and the person in power hates the Mets? You're screwed, my friend. Screwed.
Now, that tattoo on my inner thigh of Ethel Merman singing disco, on the other hand...that's another story. It's the first thing I see when I relieve myself in the morning and the last thing I see when I take out my colostomy bag at night.
THAT's a keeper! After all, there's no business like show business...