Quote tattoo reading I'm the hero of this story

Lettering · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of a serif text tattoo in black ink reading "I'm the hero of this story." across the flank, angled diagonally from lower left to upper right. The skin is smooth and the lettering is crisp and evenly weighted, with no visible shading beyond the letterforms. A grey knit garment with a loose seam fills the lower part of the frame, and the greyscale treatment keeps the focus on the text.

Lettering Ribs Quote Text Word

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, then, and mind the goat. Yes, the one with the bell. Now, the man in this story drove a water tanker out past the Fourteen Wells, where the tarmac gives up and the sand takes over. He had four thousand litres in the back and forty souls waiting at the other end, and he was late, because the radio had told him so twice.

Keep reading

Somewhere beyond the dead signpost he came up on a boy sitting on a jerrycan in the middle of the road, waving a tyre iron like a flag. The man did not stop. He had a schedule and a wife who wanted the bread bought. He leaned on the horn and went round the boy, and in the mirror he watched the boy shrink to a grey pebble. "I'm the hero of this story," he said to the empty cab, the way a man says a thing he has said to a mirror many times.

Here is the turn, and then I'll have my tea. Eleven miles on, the tanker shuddered and died in a gully. He waited three hours, and the only thing that came down that road was the same boy, on foot, with a second boy and a sack of dates the size of a sheep. Their mother had heard the engine stop from her step. She had sent the dates because a hero needs feeding, she said, and because she had buried a husband on this road who was also in a hurry.

So the man sat on the cab step with the dates in his lap and the sun on his neck, and the story goes that he never said the line again. He ate one date. Then he ate another. The engine ticked as it cooled, and somewhere out past the wells a bell went on, going nowhere, the way bells do.