Judgment Please

So I'm walking up the stairs in the subway station this morning. I was strolling with my head down as I was awake against my will. No matter my level of despair, safety dictates that I raise my head every so often, and that's when it hit me. Not a beam, or another passenger, something much more interesting. I lifted my face from the floor to find a tattoo of a dream catcher on the shoulder blade of the girl in front of me. I repeat, a dream catcher. This girl was white, super white, spf 45 white. I only say that to rest any idea that she could even possess a dash of Native American blood. This tattoo clearly belonged on the small of her back. I thought, "I hope she was held down and branded with this body art misconduct". Oh yeah, I'll think words like "misconduct" some times. I hated to think she had made a choice, and that this was her choice. It wouldn't do anything to rectify the situation if it wasn't, but the tattoo was of poor quality. It didn't look like it had been done with a safety pin inside a women's prison, but it was pretty shabby. I mean if you want to defer any of the heat you're going to get by having a fucking dream catcher on your shoulder blade it better be full color, high definition, and have a dream visibly caught in the web. I walked behind this girl while transferring trains and please believe I was studying this ink the entire way. Finally I had a reason to be awake. If one of those huge South American cock roaches had been in the same spot I wouldn't have looked for that long. I can only imagine her rolling into the tattoo parlor, holding hands with her best friend who she'd later never speak to again unrelated to this tattoo. This is where it gets fuzzy for me. I'd like to think she's a girl who walks around and picks her tat from the wall of examples, but that seems a little too far fetched. So I'm guessing she was maybe hooking up with a half blooded Apache dude and wanted to surprise him on their two week anniversary. Now when she sits down to discuss what she wants with the artist, (and keep in mind this guy has drawn stuff like Mighty Mouse smoking a joint on people before) he struggles to hold his jaw shut. He then excuses himself and tells the kid who normally sweeps up the office that despite what he's been telling him for the last eight months he is ready to sling some ink. And that my friends explains why the quality was suspect. It does nothing to ease my mind as to why she thinks she has any business wearing a tank top. This girl should be court ordered to wear a turtle neck at all times for fear that thing sees daylight.