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Z Ink (Look what I did!!!!)


Darbji280z

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It was 1965.

The scene was a back street of Saigon.

Four Oz soldiers staggering along, arms around shoulders, supporting each other 'cause we were pi*ssed out of our tiny brains when we came across a tattooist's shop. It was decided to all get a tat. The other three did, I waited outside. Couldn't see the sense in having something painted on me that I couldn't wash off later.

Every reunion since, the other three complain about the "damned things" and I'm blamed for not having talked them out of it. They all habitually wear long sleeved shirts. (With just the cuff rolled up).

Now, .... I'm not saying that my bod is totally unblemished. Apart from the scars from a few operations, the scars made by a very sharp, pointed blade makes for far more interestng story telling that a tat.

Rick.

:devious::devious:

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