My complete and total inability to care for small animals claimed another victim today: This morning, I found Cthulhu floating belly-up in his fish bowl. I would have assumed he died of natural causes if it weren't for the empty pill bottle at the bottom of the tank and what appeared to be a last will and testament.
Standing over his bowl and looking down at his little aquatic corpse, I decided that now was the perfect time to pierce my nipples. Good luck following that train of thought. And so I set off to pay someone to permanently mutilate my chesticles. I decided to go to the guys who did my previous tattoos, as they were the only place in Montreal that let you drink yourself stupid during the procedures.
I walked into the tattoo parlour, only to have my leg humped by a dachshund while the inked receptionist watched on. "I'm sorry, I think your dog is fucking my leg," I said, trying to shake off the little guy before his lipstick ruined one of the two pairs of pants I owned.
"Sorry about that. That's just Dex, he does that sometimes," she replied, motioning to the dog that now seemed to be in the final stages of copulating with my leg. I proceeded to kick him gently in the balls, or at the very least where his balls would have been.
"Anyway, now that that's out of the way, would you mind piercing my ta-tas?"
"You mean your nipples?" she asked.
"Yeah, but I hate that word. So can you do it?"
"Sure thing," she said. "That'll be $114."
I was a bit skeptic as to how two tiny barbells, a clamp, two needles and five minutes of labour would cost anything over $100, but more than anything I was just happy that my mosquito bites were big enough to be pierced.
Having sufficiently greased some palms, I was lying on a table with my tits in a clamp, a needle at the ready and a mouthful of hoodie. I find that the initial pains of penetration are a little less awful when you have something to bite down on. "You ready?" She asked.
There's a time and a place for asking someone if they're ready for something. Personally, I prefer to pull it out at the wedding altar. If you do it right, someone will get punched in the face. But asking someone this when you're holding a needle to one of the most sensitive areas on the body. "Do it, motherfucker!" I said, which came out something like "Mmmm-Mmmm, MmmmrrrrMmmmrrrr".
And she did do it, and it did hurt like hell. And then it suddenly didn't. I looked down and wouldn't you know it, I had a 3 inch needle through my nip. And aside from a little blood, it really didn't hurt that bad. Not only did the actual piercing look pretty good but it also made my nips stand out like Jennifer Aniston's circa Friends.
With my body newly mutilated and my chest now bleeding slightly, I went to work and then home, to finally, blissfully send Cthulhu off to the big fish bowl in the sky. And then the toilet tank refused to fill up. Yeah, today confused me too.