Page 90 of Johnny

Johnny?”

“I’m not moody. I told you—”

“I know. You don’t do moods. So then, why are you so not moody?”

“Because I have a lot of shit on my mind and you’re…” But I pause. I don’t really want to say the

last part of that thought.

“I’m what? Fucking up all your plans?”

I point at her.

“Sorry.” She giggles. “It just slipped out. No one’s ever commented on my swearing before. I’m

not really a chronic fuck sayer.” She laughs when I shoot her another look. “You just bring out the filth

in me.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Which part?”

“All of that. You must say fuck a lot for it to come flying out at every turn. Don’t blame that on me.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Shit. I know plenty of others just like you.”

“Just like me, huh? Do they rearrange the genomes of rats so they live forever?”

“Nothing lives forever. So stop saying that. That’s not what you did.”

“I’m as close as one has ever gotten to finding the fountain of youth for rats.”

I chuckle a little. Can’t help it. “Is that so?”

“That is so. I could go down in history for this. If I were a regular scientist, in like, you know, a

regular lab, I’d probably be shortlisted for the Nobel Prize.”

I sigh again. She really does tire me out.

“Anyway. I’m telling you that the tattoo means something to other people. No one cares what they

are when they see you, ya know. They see ink. That’s it. Just ink. And guys like you with ink like that,

well, you know. Those tats say, I’m dangerous. Don’t fu… don’t mess with me.”

I smile.

“And I guess, OK, you’re right. A woman like me saying fuck like that, it also says something. But

I’m not just the words that come out of my mouth. Just like you’re not just the words inked on your

skin.”

“Fair enough, I guess.” I glance down at her. “But I really am the words on my skin.”