My name means victorious. Victorious...Mother was always a fan of irony. I've never won anything in my life. No. I am nothing more than a walking Murphy's Law. Nothing I ever do seems to turn out right. In school, I always wound up doing homework for the wrong class. When it was time to do dishes, I would always break them. When I tried to ask out this cute boy in high school, I got too nervous and threw up on his brand new shoes. Yes...yes. My name is one big fat lie.
My bad luck is so bad, I don't even leave my apartment. I survive on anything I can get from mail-order. Can't risk going into a store and breaking something costing $1200, right? It's alright, though. I'm friends with the delivery guy. He's really nice and doesn't mind when I drop his clipboard on his toes.
You're probably wondering how I managed to steer clear of bad luck long enough to get these, right? Well, I assure you, it was no easy task. The entire walk to the tattoo parlor, I kept tripping over cracks and old soda cans. I almost even got ran over by a moped. Yeah. Moped.
I guess I needed something to help identify my body for when the inevitable happens. You know, when I wind up dying in some fiery crash and they can only recognize me by the tattoos.
I know, I'm such an optimistic person. The glass is so half-full! ...Of cyanide.
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