The Big Bad Biker and the Teeny Tattoo Fairy

I stopped into the tattoo place
I had a bill to pay
For touch-up work I’d had them do
A week ago today

I stood beside the counter
Took my wallet from my sack
And as they took my payment I gazed
Out into the back

A biker sat upon a stool:
a rickety old crate
It quivered there, and I do not know
How it took his weight

He was the biggest bastard
Ever sat upon that chair
He’d stripped down to the waist and
Barely covered up down there

His biceps bulged with vigor
And glossed with a sweaty sheen
Was the biggest pair of man-breasts
Humankind has ever seen

His belly overhung his belt
He had a chin or three
And that wooly coat of hair he sported
Really frightened me

The tiny tattoo artist
Five foot one and cruelly thin
Sat hunched against his bulk
Whilst carving “art” into his skin

I watched her etch the letters
H, A, R and L, E,Y
Into this goober’s sweaty arm;
All I could do was sigh

“Hold still you great galumph” she hissed
And viewed him with disdain
And biker boy just grit his teeth
To grimly hide his pain

I wondered where his buddies were
And even if he had
Some peeps that also thought they were
The baddest of the bad.

“All right, you tough-guy biker boy”
I thought, and took my change
But he looked up and caught my eye
I suddenly felt strange

As our eyes met, my heart went out to this
Poor schlub who’d had enough
Of sitting through the “DAVIDSON”
And trying to look tough

And as I gazed into his eyes
I thought “This isn’t funny”
For in his tortured gaze I saw
His soul whispering...

...“Mummy!”