Post by Apocalypse Pro on Aug 30, 2024 8:55:09 GMT -5
THURS, AUG 29, 2024 / 6:66PM
Salem’s cobblestone streets were alive with the hum of late-night summer activity, the echoes of laughter and footfalls mingling with the occasional car horn. But amidst the bustle, a small tattoo parlor tucked away on a side street stood like a relic of a darker time. Its windows were dimly lit, casting a soft, eerie glow onto the sidewalk. The sign above the door read “Infernal Inkworks” in faded, gothic lettering.
Inside, the parlor was a shrine to the macabre. Skulls, occult symbols, and antique tattoo machines lined the walls, while the scent of disinfectant mingled with the faint aroma of burning incense. Dylan Driver, Apocalypse Pro’s play-by-play commentator and part-time tattoo artist, sat behind the counter, sketching a design. He glanced up as the bell over the door chimed, signaling the arrival of another late-night client.
SHITHEAD entered first, his wide grin flashing beneath his messy hair, his energy almost palpable. Behind him, Suzie Shit swept in with dramatic flair, her presence filling the room like a thunderclap. She clutched a crumpled script in one hand, waving it about as if it were a royal decree. Her eyes were alight with ambition, her posture exuding the self-importance of someone who believed they were destined for Hollywood stardom—even if it was just a bit part in a low-budget horror flick.
"Driver!" SHITHEAD boomed, slapping Dylan on the back with a force that made him wince slightly. "Got a date with your needle tonight. First-ever VILE Network TV Champ needs some ink to mark the occasion."
"Yeah, man, I’ve got you covered," Dylan replied, forcing a smile despite the discomfort in his lower back. He liked SHITHEAD well enough—the guy was wild but genuine. But Suzie… she was a different beast entirely.
Suzie was pacing the small room, the script held high in front of her as she recited lines with exaggerated emotion. "‘How dare you defile this sacred ground!’" she bellowed, her voice dripping with melodrama. "No… no, that’s not right. It needs more gravitas. Maybe a tear… yes, a single tear sliding down my cheek as I say it…"
Dylan rolled his eyes discreetly and focused on preparing his station. As much as he respected SHITHEAD’s enthusiasm, dealing with Suzie’s egocentric attitude was like navigating a minefield in the dark. She was a firestorm of narcissism, and it was clear she saw herself as the next great actress, despite the fact that her role was barely more than a glorified extra.
"So, what are we thinking?" Dylan asked, pulling on his gloves as SHITHEAD settled into the chair.
"‘CHAM’ on my right knuckles," SHITHEAD said, extending his hand, "and ‘PION’ on the left. Need to make sure everyone remembers who the first-ever VILE champ is."
Dylan nodded, positioning SHITHEAD’s hand under the light. "Solid choice, man. This is gonna look badass."
As the needle buzzed to life, Suzie’s voice cut through the air again, now louder and more impassioned. She had transitioned from running her lines to full-blown method acting, throwing herself into each word as if she were already on set. "‘You think you can escape me?’" she hissed, eyes wide as she stared at an invisible antagonist in the corner of the room. "‘No one escapes the wrath of La Bruja Negra!’"
SHITHEAD glanced over at his wife with a mixture of amusement and pride. “She’s really taking this movie thing seriously,” he said to Dylan, his voice raised slightly to be heard over the buzzing needle.
“Yeah… she’s really into it,” Dylan replied, careful to keep his tone neutral. He focused on his work, carefully inking the letters onto SHITHEAD’s knuckles. He could feel Suzie’s dramatic energy crackling in the air, and it took all his concentration to tune her out.
As Dylan worked, Suzie suddenly flung herself onto the parlor’s old, worn-out couch, her script falling to the floor in a crumpled heap. She draped an arm over her eyes, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Dylan, darling,” she called out, her voice thick with feigned exhaustion. “How do you deal with it? The weight of creativity, the burden of brilliance? It’s so… heavy.”
Dylan paused, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a lot to bear,” he said dryly, hoping his sarcasm would fly under the radar.
But Suzie was too wrapped up in her own world to notice. “You’re so right,” she continued, her voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. “But it’s worth it, isn’t it? To be truly seen… to be truly known…”
SHITHEAD chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s just passionate, Driver. That’s why I love her. Ain’t nothing wrong with knowing what you want and going after it.”
Dylan bit back a comment about narcissism and nodded. “Sure, man. Passion’s a good thing.”
The minutes ticked by, and soon enough, Dylan finished the tattoo. He leaned back, wiping the ink and blood from SHITHEAD’s knuckles with a practiced hand. “Done,” he announced. “Check it out.”
SHITHEAD looked at his hands, flexing his fingers as he admired the fresh ink. “Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!” he exclaimed, grinning ear to ear. “This is perfect. Can’t wait to show it off.”
Suzie, having momentarily abandoned her script, sauntered over to examine the tattoo. She gazed at SHITHEAD’s knuckles with a mixture of admiration and something else—perhaps a touch of envy that the spotlight wasn’t entirely on her. “It’s… fitting,” she said, her tone as dramatic as ever. “A true mark of your greatness.”
SHITHEAD pulled her close, planting a kiss on her cheek. “You’re the real star, babe. This movie’s gonna be your big break.”
Suzie smiled, her eyes glinting with ambition. “Of course it will be. They won’t be able to take their eyes off me.”
Dylan watched the two of them with a mixture of fascination and discomfort. They were like a car crash—grotesque, chaotic, but impossible to look away from. He shook his head slightly, cleaning up his station as the couple continued their over-the-top exchange of affection.
As they finally prepared to leave, SHITHEAD slapped a wad of cash onto the counter—way more than the tattoo was worth. “Here’s for the ink, Driver, and a little extra since I’m rich as shit now.”
“No problem,” Dylan replied, pocketing the cash. He watched as SHITHEAD and Suzie exited the parlor, their laughter echoing in the night.
Dylan couldn’t help but wonder what kind of madness awaited them next—but whatever it was, it would definitely be something no one could look away from.
Salem’s cobblestone streets were alive with the hum of late-night summer activity, the echoes of laughter and footfalls mingling with the occasional car horn. But amidst the bustle, a small tattoo parlor tucked away on a side street stood like a relic of a darker time. Its windows were dimly lit, casting a soft, eerie glow onto the sidewalk. The sign above the door read “Infernal Inkworks” in faded, gothic lettering.
Inside, the parlor was a shrine to the macabre. Skulls, occult symbols, and antique tattoo machines lined the walls, while the scent of disinfectant mingled with the faint aroma of burning incense. Dylan Driver, Apocalypse Pro’s play-by-play commentator and part-time tattoo artist, sat behind the counter, sketching a design. He glanced up as the bell over the door chimed, signaling the arrival of another late-night client.
SHITHEAD entered first, his wide grin flashing beneath his messy hair, his energy almost palpable. Behind him, Suzie Shit swept in with dramatic flair, her presence filling the room like a thunderclap. She clutched a crumpled script in one hand, waving it about as if it were a royal decree. Her eyes were alight with ambition, her posture exuding the self-importance of someone who believed they were destined for Hollywood stardom—even if it was just a bit part in a low-budget horror flick.
"Driver!" SHITHEAD boomed, slapping Dylan on the back with a force that made him wince slightly. "Got a date with your needle tonight. First-ever VILE Network TV Champ needs some ink to mark the occasion."
"Yeah, man, I’ve got you covered," Dylan replied, forcing a smile despite the discomfort in his lower back. He liked SHITHEAD well enough—the guy was wild but genuine. But Suzie… she was a different beast entirely.
Suzie was pacing the small room, the script held high in front of her as she recited lines with exaggerated emotion. "‘How dare you defile this sacred ground!’" she bellowed, her voice dripping with melodrama. "No… no, that’s not right. It needs more gravitas. Maybe a tear… yes, a single tear sliding down my cheek as I say it…"
Dylan rolled his eyes discreetly and focused on preparing his station. As much as he respected SHITHEAD’s enthusiasm, dealing with Suzie’s egocentric attitude was like navigating a minefield in the dark. She was a firestorm of narcissism, and it was clear she saw herself as the next great actress, despite the fact that her role was barely more than a glorified extra.
"So, what are we thinking?" Dylan asked, pulling on his gloves as SHITHEAD settled into the chair.
"‘CHAM’ on my right knuckles," SHITHEAD said, extending his hand, "and ‘PION’ on the left. Need to make sure everyone remembers who the first-ever VILE champ is."
Dylan nodded, positioning SHITHEAD’s hand under the light. "Solid choice, man. This is gonna look badass."
As the needle buzzed to life, Suzie’s voice cut through the air again, now louder and more impassioned. She had transitioned from running her lines to full-blown method acting, throwing herself into each word as if she were already on set. "‘You think you can escape me?’" she hissed, eyes wide as she stared at an invisible antagonist in the corner of the room. "‘No one escapes the wrath of La Bruja Negra!’"
SHITHEAD glanced over at his wife with a mixture of amusement and pride. “She’s really taking this movie thing seriously,” he said to Dylan, his voice raised slightly to be heard over the buzzing needle.
“Yeah… she’s really into it,” Dylan replied, careful to keep his tone neutral. He focused on his work, carefully inking the letters onto SHITHEAD’s knuckles. He could feel Suzie’s dramatic energy crackling in the air, and it took all his concentration to tune her out.
As Dylan worked, Suzie suddenly flung herself onto the parlor’s old, worn-out couch, her script falling to the floor in a crumpled heap. She draped an arm over her eyes, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Dylan, darling,” she called out, her voice thick with feigned exhaustion. “How do you deal with it? The weight of creativity, the burden of brilliance? It’s so… heavy.”
Dylan paused, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a lot to bear,” he said dryly, hoping his sarcasm would fly under the radar.
But Suzie was too wrapped up in her own world to notice. “You’re so right,” she continued, her voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. “But it’s worth it, isn’t it? To be truly seen… to be truly known…”
SHITHEAD chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s just passionate, Driver. That’s why I love her. Ain’t nothing wrong with knowing what you want and going after it.”
Dylan bit back a comment about narcissism and nodded. “Sure, man. Passion’s a good thing.”
The minutes ticked by, and soon enough, Dylan finished the tattoo. He leaned back, wiping the ink and blood from SHITHEAD’s knuckles with a practiced hand. “Done,” he announced. “Check it out.”
SHITHEAD looked at his hands, flexing his fingers as he admired the fresh ink. “Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!” he exclaimed, grinning ear to ear. “This is perfect. Can’t wait to show it off.”
Suzie, having momentarily abandoned her script, sauntered over to examine the tattoo. She gazed at SHITHEAD’s knuckles with a mixture of admiration and something else—perhaps a touch of envy that the spotlight wasn’t entirely on her. “It’s… fitting,” she said, her tone as dramatic as ever. “A true mark of your greatness.”
SHITHEAD pulled her close, planting a kiss on her cheek. “You’re the real star, babe. This movie’s gonna be your big break.”
Suzie smiled, her eyes glinting with ambition. “Of course it will be. They won’t be able to take their eyes off me.”
Dylan watched the two of them with a mixture of fascination and discomfort. They were like a car crash—grotesque, chaotic, but impossible to look away from. He shook his head slightly, cleaning up his station as the couple continued their over-the-top exchange of affection.
As they finally prepared to leave, SHITHEAD slapped a wad of cash onto the counter—way more than the tattoo was worth. “Here’s for the ink, Driver, and a little extra since I’m rich as shit now.”
“No problem,” Dylan replied, pocketing the cash. He watched as SHITHEAD and Suzie exited the parlor, their laughter echoing in the night.
Dylan couldn’t help but wonder what kind of madness awaited them next—but whatever it was, it would definitely be something no one could look away from.