I just finished reading one Roald Dalh short story. It's titled Sign. It was about how one man got a tattoo on his back and lost it. Here's the clincher question: What would you do if you found out that the work of art etched on your very skin was worth millions?
If given a chance, and if I could muster the courage to face the imposing needle, I wonder what kind of tattoo will choose to have and where to put it? I like butterflies, hmmm… how about that? On my back below my spine? How about in front, slightly below my hipbone? Let's go wild for once, so if for example it was Da Vinci who made that tattoo on my skin and by chance a gallery owner saw it and offered money for it. Would I sell it? It's a tattoo… it can't leave my body right? But he offered me a million dollars, would I be willing to part with a few square inches of my skin? There's a skin-grafting technology, he said. I wouldn't… I couldn't… not even if my life depended on it. They have to kill me first, and then they can take that piece of skin.
You might ask, so what did the old man do? The gallery owner told him that he owns a posh hotel and that the old man will be taken cared off 'til the very last day of his life. The old man agreed and went with the buyer. A few weeks later the skin was on display and none heard of that old man once more – for the gallery owner doesn't own any hotel at all.
Here's another story of a desperate housewife, which could be included in the plot of the famous TV series. It's again a Roald Dahl creation, Lamb to the Slaughter. It is a story of a Bree-like housewife (you know who I mean, if you watch the show that is). Okay, so there is this pregnant housewife, waiting for her husband on a regular Thursday afternoon. She did not cook dinner because every Thursday her husband brings her out for some fancy cuisine. So he got the same time as usual, drank his glass of whisky while she knitted and waited for him so they can get going. But this time the police officer husband took his time drinking and had another shot. He looked tired so the wife said that maybe they don’t have to go out this time and she'll whip something up for them. He then hesitated and poured out everything to her – something that has been bothering him for sometime. He wanted to divorce her and promised to support her and the unborn child. What did the wife do?
She pretended like she didn't hear him and stood up and said, "I'll get the dinner." She took a frozen leg of lamb from the freezer and swung it to her husband’s head, whom had his back turned from her. When she realized that she had killed him, she put the meat on the oven, put on some make up and went to the grocery shop to buy some potatoes. She went back home humming a little tune, smiling and called out, "How are you darling?" She then saw her husband lying down and felt rather in shock and cried her heart out. Moments later she called her husband's colleagues and so the investigation began. They went looking for the weapon, a heavy blunt instrument, and most probably a large piece of metal, but found none. Some officers stayed for a while and noticed that the oven was still on, and being the hospitable wife, she offered her husband's friends to eat dinner – and they obliged.
I guess the case would never be solved then. Because like what the officers said, "Old story – find the murder weapon and you got the man."
Lessons learned, anything can be used to kill someone and when you just told your wife you're going to divorce her – never ever turn your back on her.
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