Black and grey tattoo of a pistol above flowing script reading 'Insult my best friend? Run bitch' on the upper arm.

Pistol and script quote on upper arm

Lettering · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a black and grey tattoo on the outer upper arm, showing a shaded pistol with ornate scrollwork above several lines of cursive script. The script reads 'Insult my best friend? Run bitch' and is finished with a looping flourish underneath. The linework is bold with soft grey shading, and the image is taken straight on with the design filling most of the frame.

Lettering Upper arm Pistol Gun Script Quote Flourish

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit down, the lot of you, and pass the sugar, because this is the story of Aunt Marjorie's wedding and the pistol that was never fired. Her bridesmaid was Pauline Costigan, who had known her since the infants' school in Sowerby Bridge and who had never once in forty years let a slight pass. Pauline kept her late father's revolver in the glovebox of a Ford Cortina, wrapped in a tea towel, because she said a woman drove alone at night with a reason.

Keep reading

Now the groom's brother was a clever sort of man with a loud mouth. At the reception, over the trifle, he stood up to say a few words and made a joke about Marjorie's first husband that was not a joke at all. The room went quiet the way a chapel does when the wrong hymn starts. Pauline did not shout. She walked out to the car park, came back with the tea towel under her arm, and laid the thing on the top table between the sherry glasses and the silver knife.

Nobody had loaded it, of course. The cylinder was rusted solid. But the groom's brother had already gone white, and he left by the side door so fast he took the coat rack with him. Pauline sat down, poured herself a dry sherry and said, to nobody in particular, that she had only wanted to make the point, and it was made.

Years later, when the photographs came out of the drawer, that one showed the brother's chair empty and the pistol gleaming in the flash. Marjorie had it framed for the hall. When people asked her about it, she would only say that Pauline had been right, and that the man had found his coat and his way home well before the cake was cut.