This one happened a couple weeks ago, and I didn't think about it until this morning.
I have a small tattoo encircling my left wrist. It's incomplete, so right now it's little more than a couple of geometric shapes connected by lines. Usually, I wear a watch over it so it's invisible, but that day I'd forgotten my watch.
The Cumberland Farms store I work at gets a lot of foot traffic due to it's location. Quite often, our clientèle consists of welfare leeches, the bitter elderly, and censure-promoting fundie whackjobs. Yes, I hate them all, no, I haven't shot anyone... yet.
Anyways, I was giving change to this one woman who's known for her fundie views, and joy of joys, she saw my tat. The following ensued:
Me = Keeper of Soul Eater, the concrete cat lawn ornament.
FWJ = Fundie Whackjob
FWJ *scowling like always*: That's blasphemy.
Me *not paying attention while getting her change*: Mm? What is?
FWJ: That tattoo! That's blasphemy unto the Lord!
Me *looking puzzled*: Er, sorry? I'm not following.
FWJ *turning red as she winds up*: Tattoos and piercings are an abomination unto the Lord! The body is a temple unto the Lord, and you've desecrated it!
Me *trying to remember if any of this was mentioned in Sunday School classes two decades ago*: Yeah, well, He should have done a better job on the exterior decorating then, or hired a professional. At least then I wouldn't have to be picking up the slack.
She turned a shade of red I haven't seen before before stomping out with a rather unChristian curse. I'm just glad the manager wasn't there, that would have been a chewing out for sure. Would have been worth it though.
I have a small tattoo encircling my left wrist. It's incomplete, so right now it's little more than a couple of geometric shapes connected by lines. Usually, I wear a watch over it so it's invisible, but that day I'd forgotten my watch.
The Cumberland Farms store I work at gets a lot of foot traffic due to it's location. Quite often, our clientèle consists of welfare leeches, the bitter elderly, and censure-promoting fundie whackjobs. Yes, I hate them all, no, I haven't shot anyone... yet.

Anyways, I was giving change to this one woman who's known for her fundie views, and joy of joys, she saw my tat. The following ensued:
Me = Keeper of Soul Eater, the concrete cat lawn ornament.
FWJ = Fundie Whackjob
FWJ *scowling like always*: That's blasphemy.
Me *not paying attention while getting her change*: Mm? What is?
FWJ: That tattoo! That's blasphemy unto the Lord!
Me *looking puzzled*: Er, sorry? I'm not following.
FWJ *turning red as she winds up*: Tattoos and piercings are an abomination unto the Lord! The body is a temple unto the Lord, and you've desecrated it!
Me *trying to remember if any of this was mentioned in Sunday School classes two decades ago*: Yeah, well, He should have done a better job on the exterior decorating then, or hired a professional. At least then I wouldn't have to be picking up the slack.

She turned a shade of red I haven't seen before before stomping out with a rather unChristian curse. I'm just glad the manager wasn't there, that would have been a chewing out for sure. Would have been worth it though.
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