Two black tattoos on forearms: an avocado halved with a dotted stone on the left, and a pineapple outline in fine line on the right.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Avocado and pineapple tattoos on forearms

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two separate tattoos are shown on different arms. The left shows an avocado cut in half, with its stone and inner flesh shaded in dotwork stippling against an outlined skin. The right shows a pineapple drawn in a single consistent black outline with no shading, set upright on the forearm.

Fine line Dotwork Forearm Pineapple Fruit Stone Outline

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit down, sit down, the bell hasn't gone yet and my knees need the bench more than you need your prayers. Brother Anselm wanted a garden with nothing in it that would not grow in Yorkshire, and for thirty years he got his wish. Then a crate came up from the port at Bristol, stamped with a ship's name nobody could pronounce, and inside it sat a pineapple wearing its own crown like a bishop who had lost his see.

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The brothers stood round it in the cold. Brother Oswin, who had once cooked in London and thought himself a worldly man, wanted to stew it. Brother Piran said it should go straight to the abbot. The pineapple said nothing, because it was a pineapple, and it had come a very long way to be argued over by men in wet sandals.

Now the avocado lived in the glasshouse, in a pot by the door, and it had been sulking since the autumn. It had one great stone in its heart, round and brown as a monk's bead, and it liked nobody. When the pineapple was set beside it on the potting bench, the avocado split clean down its belly without anyone touching it, and the two halves lay open to the light like a pair of bowls. The stone sat between them and would not be moved. Brother Oswin swore that was a sign. Brother Piran swore it was rot. Only the pineapple, bright and spiky, seemed to understand, and it kept its crown turned toward the window.

So we planted the stone, and it took, and it is the tree you walk past on the way to the chapel. Some say the pineapple went to the kitchen in the end. I say it stayed right where it was, standing upright in the dirt, and you may ask the abbot if you doubt me. Now off you go, the bell has gone, and mind the step.