Family Stories

In my family not everyone has tattoos but they are not frowned upon if they have a meaning behind the image of which you chose to scar your body with. One Thanksgiving we were all at my grandmas talking about tattoos and sharing the stories and reasoning behind our tattoos and out of all the stories my cousin Blake’s was the best. “It was a long hard day in mid-November and I just wanted the day to end so I could go on home and finally relax. When the chance finally came to unwind and finish my day with a cool beer a few of my buddies plowed down my door ready to party. I knew I was tired and that I should have just leave them to their own party but I could not resist the temptation of a good drunken night of fun with my buds. Now, we Arkansans (Natives of Arkansas) know how to hold our beer but when it comes to liquor, we tend to go a little nuts. After three games of FUBAR (F’ed up beyond all recognition), and a few cases of beer we were feeling pretty good. Danny, the wilder one of our bunch, brought out the whiskey. Now I know I said before that we can hold our beer but if we hadn’t have had all that beer inside our guts we would have probably hesitated  on drinking this whiskey but we were all feeling good enough to try and make ourselves feel better. Now the last thing I remember of that night was when we were all talking about why ninety percent of the things in America said made in China and laughing, after that, nothing. The next morning I woke up my head was pounding but I couldn’t help but laugh knowing that we all had a good night. I went to itch my chest and it kind of hurt, almost like a sunburn. I looked down and couldn’t believe what happened. Right below my sternum in little black letters it read, “Made in America” with a little American flag. I couldn’t help but laugh and that’s when I decided that would be the last time I would ever drink whiskey.”