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eBook Category: Mystery/Crime
eBook Description: Corky always knew the kid was a wannabe, and it came as no surprise to him that he was being paid to copy another man's tattoo onto his body. But by the time he discovered whose tattoo it really was, it was far too late to change the boy's destiny.

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Tattoo Review, 1992
Fictionwise Release Date: September 2002

18 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [44 KB], eReader (PDB) [22 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [8 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [8 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [60 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [78 KB], hiebook (KML) [49 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [35 KB], iSilo (PDB) [6 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [9 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [36 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [14 KB]
Words: 2526
Reading time: 7-10 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

"Michael A. Arnzen is ... the most interesting new voice this year. His style is a down-home streetwise slang, hard and blunt, a little reminiscent of Joe R. Lansdale's crime novels, but without his southern sense of gothic madness. His work is a strange psychological exploration of desperation and insanity in the tattoo parlor."--Locus

I'd worked on the kid's body for three months straight. The terrifying fang-faced owl on his right shoulder blade was first, then came the screaming demon on his left bicep, and then finally the evil, spit-dripping hooded cobra rising from a pit of snakes that trailed up from above his pubic region. All were mine--sort of.

See, this kid--who called himself Johnny Vegas--didn't let me do these tattoos freehand. Nor were they taken from my flash. This punk had the guts to make me draw line for line from Polaroid snapshots of somebody else's tattoos.

Sure, I did a good job of copying them, and the punk paid well. I'd be proud of my work, too, if I hadn't figure out what he was up to. You see, the dumb son of a bitch was making me an accessory to murder.