Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Tasmanian Devil cartoon on forearm
Forearm · Colour · Photo
A bold, outlined cartoon Tasmanian Devil in a spinning pose, with a wide open snarling mouth, bared teeth and a scowling expression. The character is filled with flat brown, tan and red tones, with dark brown shading along the fur. It sits on a bare forearm against a black leather chair.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Brother Anselm had been told to keep the bell rope tight and the cellar door shut, and he did neither, because the thing in the orchard had been spinning for three days and the abbot wanted the apples in before the frost.
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It was brown as wet bark and about the height of a hound, and it did not walk anywhere. It turned. Whenever it came near the wall it whirled out into a fine wind that took the hats off the pilgrims and the washing off the lines, and in the middle of that wind was a mouth wider than any mouth had a right to be, full of white teeth and a red throat, with a snarl that sent the goats hiding in the byre.
The novices wanted to pray it away. The cellarer wanted to shoot it with the crossbow. Anselm, who had the least sense and the most time, sat down on the old mounting block with a crust of bread and waited. When the creature finally tired and dropped to the grass, it sat on its haunches, scowling, its ears flat against its skull, and looked at him the way a man looks at a debt.
He held out the crust. It snapped it whole, spun once in a small contented circle, and went off through the gate to bother the miller instead. The apples came in on time. The abbot never asked how, and Anselm never said that the thing had only wanted someone to sit still long enough to be fed.
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