“Fuck that hurts!” Mary gritted her teeth against the pain of the needle and turned to look at the partially finished butterfly on her wrist.
“Look sweetie, I warned you before I started that beauty is pain. Stop moving!” The gruff artist roughly grabbed her hand to move her wrist back into position.
A few more pricks of the needle was all she thought she’d be able to endure. Then, the pain stopped, along with the sound of the machine’s motor.
“What the fuck?”
Mary opened her eyes and turned to face her tattoo artist, noting the puzzled look and the silence that now pervaded the room. Throughout the shop, she heard nothing; no other motors buzzing.
One by one, the clients and their artists gathered in the common area of the shop, each of them a little more confused than the next. The owner of the shop, a big burly guy with more ink than virgin skin, came into the room, telling everyone the fuse box was fine, that the power must be out.
Each of them looked out the big windows at the front of the shop, surprised by the pandemonium they could see.
Curiosity took over, winning against their better common sense, and the group moved to the front door. En mass they exited, wanting to see what was going on.
“Oww! That fucking idiot just bit me!”
All Rights Reserved © 2013 Julianne Snow
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