He's Real, I Met Him, and I'm a Little Scared

It was getting late at the shop one night and we had one artist still hard at work while another was closing down his station. I too was hard at work with my feet up watching the 60” TV that absolutely needs to be monitored at all times. I heard the “ding” of the door opening and there stood in front of me, well if you read the summary, that’s right. Santa Clause. Star stricken, I anxiously asked him, “Can I help you with something?” It was then that Santa spoke and blew my freakin mind!

Old Saint Nick made precise on contact with me and in a softly spoken voice stated, “I’d like to get a Prince Albert, but I have a few questions.” Mainly he was concerned with his ability to urinate properly after the deed was done. Luckily the artist that was still hard at work was also a piercer and overheard the question and handled it ever so gingerly. He simply explained that if you don’t have any jewelry in then you just need to flip your amigo over in a barrel roll fashion when you “go” and everything will be fine. He also found it necessary to then ask Mr. Kringle if he was capable of this action with his “North Pole” and that he himself could do all types of acrobatic shit with his. After about 20 minutes of hysterical laughter I emerged from my fetal position picking myself up off the floor so I could schedule and appointment for him.

I know what you’re thinking, “I thought you said he was a tattoo enthusiast.” Well he was. While scheduling his appointment we were talking about tattoos and he mentioned he had a back piece. Before I could ask what it was he had already offered to show it off and was in the process of lifting his shirt. This gentleman had very wide shoulders and his back piece went from shoulder to belt line depicting a scene from an opera where a man calls upon a fire god to cast a ring of fire around a woman in eternal sleep so only one hero can rescue her. The size, color, details and artwork in general were beautiful.

Needles to say I went home that evening with mixed feelings about Santa Clause. On one hand he jumped up a few pegs on my kick ass scale due to the sweet ink he had. On the other hand he was still that mysterious guy that knows when you’re sleeping or awake and wants his “Rudolph” to have a “nose ring.” Regardless, I am leaving extra milk and cookies out his year as a token of my respect or a bribe to not give me a Prince Albert for Christmas.


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