Heard from a friend: A young woman entered a tattoo parlor and told the tattoo artist that she wanted a picture of Elvis tattooed on her upper thigh. The tattoo artist replied that this was no problem, and to please show him where she wanted the tattoo applied. The woman wanted the tattoo placed so far up on her right thigh, that she finally had to remove her panties. The artist was a little put off, but after so many years in the business and so many tattoos on unusual places of the body, he went ahead with the work after she forked over $100 for the portrait. He proceeded very carefully, and after about two hours, completed what he thought to be a first class job - an excellent profile of young Elvis. He proudly passed a mirror to his customer. She looked in seeming horror, and screamed at him, "That doesn't look like Elvis at all. I've been ripped off, and I want my money back!" The tattoo artist tried to clam her down, "Lady, that's a great picture of Elvis." "Bull! I'm not paying." "OK... I'll tell you what," he said, "I'll do another portrait on the left thigh, and if you're not satisfied, I'll give you your money back." Finally she agreed to let him try again. This time he worked even more carefully, and three hours passed before he was finally satisfied that this was an accurate potrait of Elvis Presley. He passed the mirror to her again, and she again had a bad reaction, "You idiot... this doesn't look at all like Elvis, and I want my money back." The tattoo artist was sure that his portraits of Elvis were fine pieces of work. He said, "Listen Lady... I'll tell you what... I'll go outside and grab the first person who passes by and bring 'em in here. If they say the tattoos look like Elvis, you have to pay me. Otherwise it's free, OK?" The young woman finally agreed after a heated argument. The artist went outside the shop and approached the first man to pass by. This guy happened to be staggering drunk, but the artist thought that a deal was a deal, and dragged the inebriated passerby into the shop and placed him in front of the woman - still naked from the waist down with legs spread wide open to display her new tattoos. "Tell me who that is," screamed the tattoo artist, confident in his work. The drunk bent over and got closer to the woman and the tattoos in question. He reeled back and forth, trying to maintain his balance. He looked for a quite a long time, squinting and scratching his head. "Well?" said the woman. The drunk finally stood up, staggered, and said, "I ain't gotta fuckin' clue who the twins are, but I'll be goddamned if the one in the middle ain't the spittin' image of Willy Nelson."
(From the "Rest" of RHF)
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