What's My Name?!?

I was running a bit late for work (big surprise) and there was someone in the shop already waiting for me. It was a younger couple, probably in their mid-twenties, and you could tell right away who wore the pants. “I want my name on his back”, she snipped as he sheepishly looked down at the floor, as if he might gently kick the ground and say, “Awe shucks.” We talked about it and I reminded them that a tattoo is permanent, but love isn’t always. Despite my warning, they were set on their decision and we went ahead with the design. As he started filling out his paperwork, his female friend told us that she had some errands to run and that she’d be back in an hour.

Now that she’s gone he opens up and tells me of how he was caught cheating on her and now she wants her name on him so he can’t cheat any more. I laughed. “Man, are you sure you want to get this?” I asked as he finished signing the release form. “Yeah, it’s cool,” he says “I can just say that it’s an old ex-girlfriends name if I am looking for some strange.” Wow, that’s good comedy. Yet. it gets better. I continue setting up to do the tattoo and I have him write her name down for me, as per usual, and head back to the drawing table to design something for him. “Treba” it says. I draw out a nice filigree style lettering with all the whips and add a small rose above it with the stem flowing across the top of the piece.

It was a mighty fine design as far as I was concerned so I went back to the front desk to see if my lustful friend shared my enthusiasm for the piece. He took a quick look at it and says, “Yeah, that’s good. She’ll like that.” The process goes rather quickly. I put the stencil on his shoulder blade, he triple checks in the mirror, then gives me to OK to get stabbing. My timing was perfect. I finished the tattoo just as Treba walked back into the shop.

They seem a lot happier now as he says, “Hey baby, check it out!”


“Ooooooh, Thaaat’s CUUUUUTE!! It looks so….. wait… That ain’t my name….. My names Treva, not Treba!!”

As she gives him an icy glare, he turns and looks at me, as if its my fault that he doesn't know how to spell his girlfriends name!

So, we sat back down and, amazingly, turned the “b” into a “v” by bringing the stem of the rose down to cover the stem of the bastard letter, making it look as if the stem had been slash cut, then sculpting the remaining lines into a perfect cursive “v”. But hey, he could have just left it and found a girl named Treba, right?