Two cartoon monster tattoos on a chest, one red and one olive green, each labelled RAWR, placed on either side of the upper chest.

Two cartoon monsters with RAWR text on chest

Chest · Colour · Photo

A close view of the upper chest of a person wearing a white lace top, with a pendant necklace visible. Two cartoon monster tattoos sit side by side, the left one red and the right one olive green with yellow-brown spots, each with black outlines and the word RAWR written above in black lettering. The flat colour fills and simple outlines give a playful, cartoonish look.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Now sit yourselves down and mind the spilt cider, because this is the tale of the two Rawrs, who crawled up out of the Humber mud the summer the Coronation Rooms got its new sprung floor. The red one was called Scarlet Tom by the fishermen, and the olive one Mossy Bet, on account of the yellow freckles along her back, though she never once thanked anyone for the name.

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They had one ambition between them, which was to frighten the Saturday band off the stage. Every week they climbed the fire escape, puffed themselves up as big as a coal scuttle, and let out a roar. Every week the trombonist laughed so hard he dropped his slide, and the cleaner swept them back down the stairs with a broom. 'Rawr,' Tom would bellow. 'Rawr,' Bet would answer, half a beat behind, as if she was still getting her breath.

One Saturday in October, the bandleader, a thin man called Eddie Pryce with a moustache like a wet paintbrush, announced the last waltz of the season. The floor was packed and the lights were low, and a girl in a yellow frock was dabbing her eyes with a beer mat because her partner had gone home early. Tom and Bet looked at each other across the rafters. Then they did the only thing they knew how to do. They roared together, on the same beat, so loud the chandelier shivered and every glass in the place sang.

Nobody screamed. Eddie stopped playing and the whole hall turned to look up. Then the girl in yellow laughed, and then the trombonist, and somebody started clapping in three. They came back every Saturday after that, and if you stand still by the fire door at the Coronation Rooms today, you can still hear them, roaring softly in three-four time, never once missing the beat.

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