Tuesday, October 23, 2007

bad to the bone

It was just a day, like any other day. I was driving through town, between the hours of 3 and 5, weekdays, and found myself pulling into the Sonic drive-thru. I ordered the usual: large diet Coke with lime, 96 cents please pull forward. And then something went terribly, horribly wrong.

He emerged, blinking, out of the Sonic building. Slightly pudgy. Pasty white. Greasy dark hair. Post-pubescent acne. A fast food by-product. The coin dispenser jingled at his side as he skated by on his Heelies, my drink in one hand, the receipt in the other. It wasn't until he mistakenly stopped at the car in front of me, that I saw it. His tattoo.

There, tattooed down the inside of his right forearm were the words . . .

"c'est la vie"

I grabbed my Coke and took off as fast as I could, not even waiting for my 4 pennies change, the words tattooed into my brain.

C'est la vie, carhop boy.


Kate said...

yuck, tatooed zitty boys are gross. Was your coke okay, because that is what is really important. I'll tell you what else is gross, the bad boy law student next to me on the tredmill, who had long hair, half pulled up into a pony tail, and man boobs! yuck! He trying to stretch the front of his tee-shirt so you couldn't see his brawless manboobs poking through.

P.S. I like the picture

Nanette said...

Maybe the saying refers to the zits on his face and he just wants the world to know he's come to grips with them.
Chris says the model from his last figure drawing class had "Justice" tattooed across her butt.

the lunch lady said...

Now that's a tattoo I could really get behind.