Black line drawing of two fists with the words BOOB and MILK lettered across the knuckles, printed on a grey t-shirt.

Knuckle fists design on a grey t-shirt

Traditional · Black and grey · Flash

The image shows a bold black outline drawing of two clenched fists, with letters across the knuckles spelling BOOB on the left fist and MILK on the right. The linework is solid and uniform, with no shading, and the design is printed in black on a heather grey fabric. The design is centred on the chest area of the shirt, with the shirt neckline visible at the top of the frame.

Traditional Fist Knuckle Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The churn had been sitting on platform two since the six-forty, and by half past nine the whole of Thornley Junction knew it was there and nobody would admit to owning it. Ada Cowley stood over it with her hands on her hips, the way her mother used to stand over the coal bill, while Lenny Pike, the porter, studied the cloud above the level crossing as though it had personally offended him.

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The label was the trouble. Walt Hollins had written it in capitals with a blunt pencil, and three days of drizzle had turned the top half into grey porridge. Lenny swore it said MILK for Leeds. Ada swore it said something about a bull. They were both wrong, as it turned out, because the only thing in the churn was a dozen pickled onions in brine, wrapped in the Yorkshire Post, and a note from Walt's wife asking for the jars back.

They settled it the way people in Thornley settled most things, with a wager and two sets of knuckles pressed flat on the counter. Whoever could get the churn onto the Leeds train without a single bump would buy the other a pint at the Railway Arms. Lenny rolled it along the platform like a man bowling for a skittle, and Ada walked beside him, sure as a magistrate, calling out each crack in the paving. The guard raised his flag. The engine breathed out a long grey sigh. The churn rolled up the step at the last possible second, and the onions, bless them, didn't so much as slosh.

Ada bought the pint anyway, and Lenny paid for the second, and neither of them mentioned that the next morning Walt Hollins sent a second churn with the same label, in the same pencil, asking whether anyone had seen the first one.