This elegantly airbrushed van will serve as my mobile tattoo center.
Visiting densely populated urban regions like high schools and drunken college parties, as well as sparsely inhabited small towns where there’s nothing to do, Inklings will appear to make tattoo dreams come true! Whenever you get the notion you want a tattoo, you just call us at 1-800-INK-LING, and we will speed recklessly toward you! We will be readily identifiable and branded, like the ice cream truck that came before us, but the music that we’ll always have blasting out of our speakers: Slayer.
It will be equally appealing to teens and their Midlife afflicted parents.
Ideally, I would like Inklings to become a TV show, as I want to expand beyond the confines of the GTA and explore this great nation of ours all the while providing adequate tattoo artistry and a penetrating look at the culture, landscape and psyche of the people that inhabit it. Think of Rex Murphy’s Cross Country Checkup married to Kat Von D’s LA Ink. This hygienic, mobile service will provide rapid tattooing at an affordable price in an atmosphere that playfully recalls some of your favourite serial killers.
It’s a brilliant idea. Fund me.
(Proposal pending the receipt of my valid driver’s license)
Backers:
7
Amount pledged of $50,000 goal:
$95
Days to go:
2
Incentives:
For those who donate $50 or more, an owl tattoo on the forearm.
For those who donate $750 or more, an intimidating owl chest plate.
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Day 1:
Spent half the goddamn day looking for the thing. Turns out Lupita put them in my desk drawer. Never know what that woman is thinking. I don’t hate illegals or anything, but I think she might be stealing from me. Why would she hide magic glasses unless she didn’t want me to see what she was up to?
Day 2:
Had soup.
Chunky Sirloin Burger with Country Vegetables.
Came out of microwave way too hot.
Glasses failed to respond to voice command, “Soup, cooler!”
Very disappointing.
Day 3:
Found on button.
Day 4:
Magic glasses allow me to watch TV in my head. Barack Obama continues to destroy the nation with his socialism. Clint Eastwood doesn’t want or need any help from the government. Government, just get out of my damn way!
Also, squirrels making a mess out of the backyard. I won’t need any government intervention to handle this one.
Day 5:
Heard something about that new pope washing the feet of juvenile delinquent girls. Don’t like the sounds of that. Isn’t the Pope just supposed to wash man feet? What the hell has Easter become? Thank God baseball’s started.
Couldn’t find glasses again, then later discovered I was wearing them. Fell asleep early.
Day 6:
Wore magic glasses on shopping expedition to get a heating pad. Woman at the cash was making a big deal about me being ‘the famous Clint Eastwood.” Hate big womanly fusses. She kept asking me to point my finger at her and say, “Do you feel lucky, Rose?” Glasses failed to weaponize upon command and so I just left without buying heating pad.
Very dissatisfied with glasses—Rose still alive, not even wounded, no heating pad and vision hasn’t improved. Google, I’m no longer going to play your game.
