"Willst du bis der Tod der Scheide
"Poor little rich girl"...born with the proverbial silver spoon in her mouth...never abused...never deprived...never wanting for anything...what, then, could explain the radical change at age 16? Once a shy, pristine future debutante...then suddenly, the stereotypical rebellious teenager. Her actions quickly getting her banned from the exclusive girls' boarding school, she began running with the hoodlums on the street. Her parents, of course, were always concerned, and yet, she never felt the sting of any discipline...her behavior was blamed on her age, and on the rigorous social schedule they, themselves, kept. Returning home in the wee hours one morning, a "friend's" MP5 slung over her shoulder, she crept inside and up the stairs to where her family slept...easy prey...those large pools of liquid chocolate narrowed a bit as she thought of the endless "training" she had received..."Stand up straight...you'll never make a good wife if you slouch"..."Keep your hair manageable...no man will appreciate you with a mop-cut on your head". She couldn't help but smirk as she slowly opened the door to her baby brother's room, her fingers gently tucking a stray strand of those obviously-dyed deep red locks back behind her ear as she stepped inside...moments later, her brother lay bloody in his bed...she quickly moved to her sister's room, leaving the eldest of the family in the same condition. A loud crash in the hallway pulled her attention around...and she stood face-to-face with "the dictator", himself. She saw his lips move, but never heard his words...her multi-pierced left brow arched slightly as she again raised her newest "toy", aiming directly at his forehead before pulling the trigger, the solid burst accompanied by every ounce of hate within her lithe 5'3" frame. His lifeless body shuddered a bit as it slid down the wall, leaving tell-tale bloody trails in its wake before settling on the floor...she turned slightly, the hot pink hoops in her brow jangling against each other softly, her voice a rather ominous whisper... Her lips curled into a sadistic grin as she moved into her parents' bedroom, finding her final target, the woman who gave her life, huddled on the bed. Without so much as a moment's hesitation, she aimed and fired again, smiling almost sweetly as she watched the last corpse tumble back onto the pillows...then bolted down the stairs and into the garage. Hopping into her father's newest BMW, she careened out into the street and took off...the monotonous clicking of the flourescent green tongue barbell keeping in rhythm with the steady beat of Rammstein in the stereo system...her "dues" paid to her pals on the street, she sped out of town...heading nowhere in particular...but definitely somewhere...what does the future hold for this little nomad?
"BODY ART"
treu ihr sein für alle Tage...
Willst du bis zum Tod der Scheide
sie lieben auch in schlechten Tagen..."
"Oooh Mooooother...?"
Barbed wire - around navel
Kanji ("BRAT") - upper right arm
Angel, staked and crucified - upper left arm
"ARIE 6-22-00" - upper right arm, above Kanji
Inch-high "band" of dragonflies - upper right arm, below Kanji
Gold moon and red star - surrounding right nipple
Red slashes through Sabbat symbol (the word/name "Cross" within symbol) - left "cheek"
Kanji ("honesty", "loyalty", "fidelity") - vertically between shoulder blades
Nine hoops (alternating black and neon blue) in left eyebrow
twin Day-Glo green barbells in tongue
Clear hoop with tigereye bead in both nipples
Black hoop in navel
Tiny emerald stud in right side of nose
(tongue) barbell, two stainless steel hoops dangling (R.I.P. Arie)
