Marked!

On the way home, I made my weekly visit to the tanning place for my eight minutes of high intensity. When Big padlocked the collar around my neck, he also gave me the key. I flashed on under what circumstances I'd have to remove it. Softball was one (there's a 'no jewelry' rule in the league; when a hapless umpire calls out, "No jewelry, gentlemen!" we all reach down our pants and pretend to remove PAs). The other would be the tanning salon.

So I'm heading up the walk outside of Doylestown's own Hollywood Tans, and I got a grin on my face. No. No, I wouldn't take the collar off. Rather, I would make sure in subsequent tanning sessions that it's in the same position as today. That way, in just a few short weeks, I'll have the imprint of Big's collar around me. So, even when I remove my collar to play softball, I won't be removing it entirely. It's in my skin. A part of me.

Such ingenuity the boy has, no?

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