"An Alaskan girl is basically Canadian," Frank's grandmother said when she saw his tattoo, "she'll be a good girl I know it."

Frank had a map of Alaska plastered on his bicep, a bundle of jewels on his foot, and many many more tattoos, more than most of his little toddler friends.

But he never got anymore, almost every day as he was getting older he looked on his arms and legs to see if any more popped up.

Nothing.

He grew tired of being teased for having no new tattoos, so he started drawing some om himself to avoid being bullied.

He drew a flower, a fork, dolphins, a slinky, some tomatoes. Anything that would make his future love stand out against his friends.

No one found out for a little while.

Then one day he forgot to redraw the fork and everyone knew. He got bullied even more now.

He took up archery to release his anger, and he was actually really good.

Maybe she's just boring at the moment he thought to himself between each shot maybe she hasn't done anything worthwhile yet.

For now he had some hope.