Best in Town

“Are you sure, mate?”
I nodded. I gripped Jamie’s hand and closed my eyes.
When it was all over, I looked at the dot with a tail curling on the inside of my wrist.
“Why did you want a comma?” the artist asked, cleaning their tools.
“It’s an Oxford comma,” I corrected. “That’s why I came here to your shop, in Oxford.”
Jamie put in, “Somehow that makes it morally superior.”
I maintained eye contact with the artist. “Didn’t you say, when we entered, that yours is the best tattoo parlor in town?”
The artist nodded slowly. “That’s right. And you know who else would agree? The local prostitutes, the queen, and my other clients.”