Yesterday, I talked about tattoos in the hospital. Well, I've also had calls about them at my present job.
I got a call one night from a girl who was calling about her boyfriend. He'd just had a tattoo done the day before, and now it was looking red. Actually, it was sounding pretty ugly -- red, swollen, hot and draining ickiness. After listening to the story, I told her he needed to be seen. "Well," she said, "that's pretty much impossible." After reinforcing how important it was to have him looked at she said, "ma'am, there's no way to do it. He is currently incarcerated."
(Why they don't just say 'he's in jail' is beyond me -- they are always 'currently incarcerated,' but I digress.
So how did he get a tattoo while he was in jail? Turns out that his cellmate had graciously accommodated his desire for a tattoo by sharpening a ballpoint pen on the floor of their cell, then used it to give him a permanent souvenir of the Shelby County Jail. Yep, straight off the floor of his cell.
I didn't ask what the tattoo was, and I've always wondered.