Mojo’s MojoWednesday evening, my last client runs a little late. Tattoo 804 closes at eight o’clock, but I’m doing the final fill work on a pin-up style cowgirl riding a large spermatozoon as if it were a bucking bronco. I’m not one to judge—I’ll ink anything on anyone if they’re old enough and can pay me to do it. I like my work, and while drawing cowgirls riding giant sperm isn’t exactly my idea of fine art, it pays the rent. A large job like this sets the customer back a cool three hundred, and the way this parlor operates, almost of it goes straight into my pocket.
It doesn’t matter what the tattoo is of, really—I take pride in crisp lines and smooth fades, and clean blends where the colors meet. When I’m satisfied with the quality of my work, I wipe the tattoo clean with antiseptic s
