chapter 5

Chapter Five Mangus is introduced and his Hells Angels past

Chapter 5

     Daruis walked cautiously into a one room, small rectangular tattoo parlor. There are two benches and two chairs in the back. One of the benches occupied, by two huge, stout bikers and the other empty. An older man tended to a customer in a chair. The man Mangus, a former Hell's Angel with a long white bread and longer white hair resting on the back of his neck. He wore his leather vest over a Bikers for Christ T-shirt and ripped, blue jeans. Daruis noticed a sling on his left arm. The biker was Daruis friend and mentor from years ago. He taught him the art of the ink.  Daruis approached him wearing a smile,

“Hey Mangus.”

Mangus turned with a grin.

“Hey Dar. What's going on little bro?”

“Ah nothing much. Just wanted to talk to you”

“Well I'll be a bout a half and hour with him. Just go rest on that empty bench. S**t it looks like you need to catch forty winks.”

     Daruis slumped down on the empty bench, looking out of the window at the Harley Davidson Hogs sparked outside of the store like posted thoroughbreds from the Western flicks. Daruis eyes dragged, yet he fights to keep them open but this was a fight he wouldn’t win.

    He dreamed again of lying on a bed in the dark, cold room. The door flew open and the huge hooded figure entered. This time the figure moved closer then before. Daruis tried to scream but to no avail. The words wouldn’t leave his mouth. He lay paralyzed by silence. The huge blacken figure slowly removed the hood, as bright light shot forward from the face. He covered his eyes as the glowing man moved in.

      Daruis opened his eyes, shaking and sweating, glad to still be among the living. Mangus hovered over him and handed his young friend a glass of water. The young tattoo artist noticed the Bikers on the other bench wouldn’t remove his gaze.

“You all right man? You must have been having some kind of nightmare?”

“No I'm fine.”

     He drank it quickly, letting the water trickle down the side of his face. Mangus returned to the large fat customer with a red handkerchief tied around his head. He picked up the needle and returned to chubby arm. The slight buzzing from the needle filled the void of silence.

“So what's going on in your life?  What’s wrong?”

“Nothing just came up to see how my mentor is doing. Hey what happen to you arm?

Mangus greeted the question with a grin,

“Hurt it fixing my Hog.”

    Daruis sat up confused,

“Your what? You have a Pot belly pig or something?”

     The room broke out in vicious laughter. Mangus joined in as well,

“No. My bike, my Harley.”

“Oh jeez man my fault.”

Daruis checked out his leather vest and noticed the One Percent patch on his right shoulder, along with three sets of wings: red, green and black.

“What that one percent and all those wings on your vest?”

     The biggest biker in the long leather coat, motorcycle boots and a cherry red bandana rose from the bench playing with his beard,

“You sure are asking a lot of questions today boy. What is this show and tell? Magus who is this little f**k?”

     Mangus got between Red Dog and Daruis,

“He's like a son to me Red. Back off!”

“Okay brother, just checking.”

     Red Dog took his seat, as Mangus yelled,

“I'm closed! Come back tomorrow!”

      The fat biker jumped out of the chair with his half completed red heart with the words Jenny scrolled in the middle of the piece,

 “Hey Mangus. Dude what about my f*****g tat man?”

 “I'm sorry I'll finish tomorrow.”

    The gang filed out of the parlor as Mangus locked the door behind them. He flicked off the lights to the neon sign. He motioned Daruis to take the chair across from him

“So you want to know about my the stuff on my vest?”

     The roar of motorcycles echoed as the light from the Hogs whiz by one after another. “Just curious Mang.”

     Mangus pointed to the One Percent badge.

“I'm a one precenter. Those where the meanest, baddest son of b*****s in the Hell's Angel. They got the name out of a motorcycle magazine. The rag said ‘ One percent of those who ride motorcycles you have to watch out for’. Well I used to be the one percent.”

“You where a bad man Mang!”

     Mangus pointed to wings on his leather vest,

“I had to earn these wings. The Red is if you eat a girl out on her period. The Green is if you eat a girl out with an STD. The Black...”

     Daruis moved closer to hear better while Mangus continued,

“The Black is if you eat a dead girl out.”

     Daruis eyes shot opened wide with fear and intrigue,

“That’s cool. I don't want to here any more.”

     Mangus belched a deep heartily laugh,

“You asked little brother. But know I'm not into this.”

     Mangus removed his shirt to exhibit his Biker for Christ tat inked on his chiseled frame.

“I'm saved. I'm a Christian now. You have to get right to.”

“Yeah right man.” Daruis reluctantly returned glancing at Magus from the side of his face.

“For real! I'll always be a Hell's Angel but instead of bad, I do good. Me and my gang.”

“What do you ride around preaching the word and s**t?”

 “And stuff.” Mangus corrected.

“What?”

“It stuff not s**t potty mouth.”

     Daruis raised his arms mocking surrender,

“Sorry Mang. You know the cops came into my store today.”

Mangus straighten as his face changes drastically,

“What did they want? They're harassing you over that WEMAS stuff again?”

“No no, they came in my shop asking about the murders.”

“The serial killer around town?”

“Yeah well, they think a tattoo artist is connected.”

     Mangus chuckled again and stood erect.

“What’s so funny?”

“They always connect us with being lowlifes and scum. Because what we do. People have always looked at tattoos and the people who wear them and the people who create

them as evil.”

“That's some true s**t Mang.”

 “I mean Mike Angelo was not evil. Why do they think we are. Now we're serial killers. All we try to do is make the world look pretty. Cover imperfections.

     Mangus grabbed Daruis elbow.

“Put your arm out.”

     Daruis reluctantly complied and stuck out his pale white arm straight out.

“What’s that on your arms?”

“Skin man.”

“No it's canvas. It’s our artistic medium.”

“I always like to draw and s**t. I never thought of myself as an artist.”

“You are. Except you use a livin’ breathing object for you canvas. Skin, the epidermis. The largest organ on the body. From a business man in a high-rise. To a dancer at a t***y bar. To the brother in the hood. What unites all these different people?”

      Mangus reflected on his monologue. In the background an intrigued Daruis listens intently forming visual pictures in his mind to go along with his speech.

“Skin we all have it. Have you ever sat there and saw two people from two different world engaged in a conversation, hey nice tattoo. Where did you get it? What does it mean? So people choose to get one of their mothers. Some people chose someone they love to put on their body. Sometimes we use it to remind of someone we lost. Sometimes it's just about beauty. And peace and serenity. Trying to get closer to God. We have never seen. But through his creation. All through the manipulation of  skin. You will carry that with you forever. You can lose a picture or it get damaged. But you can lose your tat. Tattoo, Tats and body art. Call it what ever you want its still the same. Whatever you call it. Sometimes the most important thing is it represents us. Show our heroes.”

    Mangus danced in front of Daruis whose own images that went ran his head like a movie.

“So you see Dar. We are artist. No evil low level bottom dwellers. Not an alternative anti society an Anarchists. We are artist and people are bulletin boards. And the tattoos are the messages they want people to see. If you look close enough at a tattoo you can tell a person's life story without asking a question.”

     Daruis humbly shook Mangus hand and sprinted toward the door in a hurry.

“On that note I have to get back to the store. My brother's there and I don't know what’s going on.”

      Mangus waved with his good arm,

“Don't be a stranger. And tell those cops to kiss my but. I would say a*s but I'm a Christian now.”

Author's Note

Comments and Suggestions please....

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A amazing chapter. Mangus is a very interesting character. I like the description of the jacket. My dad was a collector for the Purple gang. He had cue ball tattoos on the inner part of his hand. Showing the people he had killed. His hand shake was a warning. I like the way Mangus had changed his ways. No weakness in the outstanding chapter. I wanted to read more.
Coyote