My ass is not depressed!!!

Last night I had a dream that I got my ass tattooed. Not just a picture or two, but the entire thing was completely covered - and I don't have a small ass. In fact I remember at least a third of my left cheek being covered in blue, and the rest a collage of pictures.

S wasn't around to do the tattoo so I went to this other guy. His booth was covered in bright coloured pictures, which was exactly what I was looking for. We discussed what I wanted and he tattooed away. I realized when he was done that it had covered much more than I'd anticipated, but what could I do? I'd just have to get used to it. So I ran out, found all my friends at a bar and brought them into an empty room to show off my new tattoo.

After the crowd had gathered I turned around, undid my pants and dropped them. No one seemed impressed. In fact Dickeybird looked miffed. I think it was because I didn't get S to do it and I didn't bring him with me. His response:

"It's great - if you want to show your proctologist how depressed you are."

I thought "What? I'm not depressed! I'm happy, that's why I wanted a fun tattoo!" It was then that I took a good look in the mirror. The tattoo was bright and colourful at first glance, but when you looked at it closely, the images were quite sombre. My next thought:

"I can't have someone who's fucking my ass looking down and getting depressed! It would totally ruin the mood!"

Priorities.

I started to think of ideas on how to cover some of the images, including making Hitler's face green and changing it into the Hulk, and went back to the artist to talk to him about what he'd done. It turned out that he'd ignored most of our conversation and put in his own images (including a creepy clown graphic) because he'd drawn them earlier and his girlfriend thought they were cool. He gave me a revised sketch to change it, but it wasn't any better.

I started looking for S to see if he could fix the mess, but then my alarm went off. I woke up with a start, wondering what the hell I was going to do about my multi-coloured ass. Until, of course, I realized it was just a dream and I wasn't running the risk of depressing my boyfriend.

I should use this as a premise for a new Broadway play - Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Ass. Anyone have Andrew Lloyd Webber's phone number?