Sleeve

The sun beat heavily down from a blue sky. People skipped and hopped gaily in the streets. The pub across the road from me had pulled some chairs and tables out and these were filling up with the glad folk of summer.

It looked magic.

I say looked because I was 7 floors up in a sweaty office staring out of a brown tinted window at everyone having a great time in the sun.

Fucking shite.

I mused philosophically.

Home time seemed very far away. I had tried to entertain myself by drinking pints and pints of coffee but had only succeeded in making myself a bit trembly and twitchy. Not for the first time I rued the moral perception that masturbation in public was something to be frowned upon.

The aircon unit next to me rumbled into life.

Thank god, it's roasting in here.

I said out loud to no-one in particular.

My relief was short lived as it started asthmatically wheezing out hot air like an old bulldog.

Fucking shite.

I remarked again.

Hey BoomDawg! What's happening?

I dragged my eyes away from the window to see The Popinjay before me. He was a tall bald chap who always looked slightly mournful. Not today though. He looked very pleased with himself. As if he had just shat out a gold doubloon and could feel more clinking away inside him.

Not much mate. What about you?

He grabbed an empty chair and pulled it up beside me and sat down.

Oh not much.

He said airily whilst tugging at his shirt sleeve, getting the button undone and yanking his sleeve up with a flourish.

Apart from this!

He exclaimed.

I looked at the pallid exposed flesh of his arm. It looked like beef fat. I looked back up at him, confusion evident on my face.

Eh, what? An arm?

This!!

He shook his arm at me impatiently.

I looked again. Oh hang on; there was something on his arm. It looked like a black outline of some vines with big leafy flowers at the ends.

Oh aye, you got a tattoo. What is it? Are those leaves and flowers?

He flicked his head as if tossing a mane of hair. It just drew attention to the sun shinily reflecting from his bald dome.

Yeah man. It's the start of my sleeve.

He looked off to the side the slowly back at me as if he had a palsy.

You are getting a sleeve tattoo? And it seems to comprise of leaves and flowers?

Yeah man, it's like, symbolism.

Of what?

His face crinkled as if I had asked to bang his beef tamborine.

The planet, you know... Nature... Stuff like that...

I nodded.

Ah, the planet. Aren't you getting on a bit to be going for a sleeve tattoo... What are you now, forty odd?

Fuck off, you're just jealous.

He sulkily started pulling his sleeve down.

Aye, that's me. Jealous because I want a sleeve tattoo of some fucking leaves and flowers.

I might get some skulls interweaved in it?

Skulls?

I stated flatly.

Erm, yeah?

The Popinjay started to stand. His face no longer so perky and more like the usual sad dog with a cucumber up its arse.

I grinned and spread my hands wide.

Skulls! You cool bastard, sit down and show me it again!!