Once upon a time Mr. and Mrs. Taylor were visiting our kitchen table. Several of the Taylor children were in tow, and daughter Allison, who had recently moved to the Lancaster area was also in attendance.
Miss Allison took advantage of the opportunity of Sharon and I sitting at the table with her mom and dad to announce that she had recently gotten a tattoo! Something that at the time was taboo amongst the Taylor clan. A taboo tattoo? I know! Seriously!
So anyway, as I was saying, upon the announcement Allison jumped up out of her seat, turned around and um...repositioned her pants so that we could see the biggest dc Talk/Jesus Freak tattoo ever created on her most lower back. I kid you not, it was the size of a softball.
I do believe Allison cleverly planned this moment for the unveiling, thinking her parents would not dare get angry at her in front of the McNaughtons. Allison; this is called premeditation. A good quality when planning a party, but not so much when committing a crime. Especially if you get caught.
Observations: First I have never actually seen someone’s blood pressure physically rise from the bottom of their neck to the top of their head before. It was actually like those old time thermometers in the cartoons. All red and glow-ee and ready to explode. Sorta like this picture, but without the smile.
The silence seemed to last for, what, at least 10 minutes. It was the most deafening silence I have ever heard. If you want to know the meaning of uncomfortable, just look this up on the internet. There is probably a YouTube video and everything. Crickets were even too frightened to chirp.
As a side-note, Ken Taylor is Six Foot Freaking Eight and often mistaken for Big Foot in the wild. While I do believe he is gentle as a lamb, I also believe that, like a Bear, when provoked, he could eat you! Do bears eat their young?
So after a few days of silence and several weeks of staring at my shoes and trying very hard not to make eye contact with Ken, Penny spoke. Before I tell you what she said, I should tell you that I purposely was not looking at Allison either, because I did not want to see her murdered in cold blood at my kitchen table. First off, we had just eaten burgers and second off because I did not want to some day have to enter a witness protection program.
Back to the break in the silence; Penny was the first to crack. Her nervousness could no longer be subsided. She began blubbering something about tattoos and geriatrics and how in later life the Jesus Freak Softball might sag into Allison’s butt crack. Penny couldn’t even get the entire nervous babble out before it began to thunder. O wait, it wasn’t thunder. It was the measured tones of a smoldering volcano named Mount Ken Taylor sitting at the end of my kitchen table.
If.........
I...........
invented.........
a machine.........
that removed.........
tattoos...........
from every moron......
who got one........
and wanted it removed...........
in later life...........
I would be............
the richest man..................
in the.................
WORLD!!!!!!!!!!
OK, I can’t guarantee that is word for word what he said. But it’s as close as my stained underwear memory can recall.
Not another word was spoken about it.
We went on as if it never happened.
Allison did not die, and I think it was less than a year til Ken actually got a tattoo himself.
I have been trying to invent the tattoo remover machine ever since. Both Ken and Allison will be targeted with a discount offer as soon as it passes the patent office.
Sincerely,
Fred McNaughton
Taylor Friend...and admirer of Allison’s foresight, intellect and chutzbah.
True story. If you don’t believe me you can ask my wife.
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