Traditional style tattoo of three banners reading SLOTH LOVE CHUNK above a bitten chunk of food, with red and blue shapes, on the inner upper arm.

Sloth Love Chunk banners on upper arm

Traditional · Upper arm · Mixed · Photo

Three cream banners curl around the inner upper arm, each with the words SLOTH, LOVE and CHUNK in black capitals. Above them sits a brown, partly bitten lump with orange highlights, and red and blue shapes show between the banners. The bold black outlines and flat colour fills are typical of traditional tattooing, with light grey shading on the ribbon folds, and the design is shown upright in a vertical composition.

Traditional Upper arm Banner Ribbon Lettering Sloth Food

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The biscuit tin is empty again, and the whole watch is looking at you, because the galley is yours and so is the blame. Skipper Dunne holds up the crumbs on his palm like evidence in a court, and Pinky, who has slept through every alarm since Hull, is somehow the first to say your name.

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Nobody on the Maud Lightly believes in hard work before breakfast. Pinky has a philosophy for it. He sleeps in the bunk above the hydraulics with a wet towel over his face and a tin of chocolate chunk biscuits tucked under his pillow, and when the net comes up heavy he simply rolls over and recites the three words that have kept the boat running for twenty years. Sloth. Love. Chunk. Nobody knows who first scratched them into the bulkhead. Dunne says it was the cook before you, who once tried to bake a sponge in a force nine and ended up wearing it.

By the second day out you have worked out the arithmetic. Four tins, six men, one lazy deckhand who swears he is innocent with crumbs on his jumper. You stop trying to catch him and start baking for him instead, one fat chunk at a time, and leave the last one on the rail by the winch with a note tucked under it: for the man who never needs to be asked twice.

Dunne finds it first. He eats it, grumbles, then calls the whole watch up to witness the cook's small miracle. Pinky surfaces from his towel for once, grinning, flour on his fingers. "Sloth love chunk," he says, and the skipper finally laughs, and so does the sea.