13 November 2005
The tattoos got tired of adhering to skin and the will of skin. They had no power except the power to say no, so they slid off all those arms, chests, buttocks, ankles, breasts, and backs and refused to be decoration any longer. They gathered in clumps, wrote a constitution and a declaration of independence. They sought respect and achieved recognition. The tattoos were supremely happy as a nation of free entities. This golden period did not last. Bikers were plotting ways to recapture them. The tattoos took up arms. They became hard and brittle. Their idealism shriveled to nothing.