It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon in a rural county when Lark and Spark hatch an idea that really excites them. First you need to know that Spark is a tattoo artist. Lark is his buddy, although Lark isn’t usually firing on all cylinders. These two may — if you stretch it some —have a combined IQ of 100.

Anyway, Lark decides he wants to have a tattoo of a gun on his hip so it’ll look like he’s got a gun tucked under his belt.

"I don’t got no pictures of guns to trace," says Spark.

"That’s okay," says Lark, "I got a real one in my truck." Lark hops over to his pickup and grabs a .357-caliber Magnum pistol and brings it into Spark’s tattoo parlor.

"That’ll make a cool tat," says Spark, as he begins to trace around the large sized handgun. "The ladies’ll think you’re really bad," says Spark as he continues to burn the gun’s image on Lark’s abdomen.

"This is gonna tickle some," says Spark as the tattoo needle begins working just inside the trigger guard. "Hold still now," Spark says.

BLAM! Spark drops the tattoo needle and falls backward onto the floor as Lark falls out of the chair he’s sitting in.

"Lordy. What was that?" asks Spark.

"Darned if I know," says Lark. "You musta touched something—that gun’s got a hair trigger."

"You mean it was loaded?" asks Spark. "I woulda never did this if I’d knowed the gun was loaded."

Along about that time, these idiots see blood and realize they’ve both been shot. A single bullet went through the fleshy part of Lark’s thigh, then ricocheted off the cement floor and hit Spark on his tattooing arm.

Neither man has life-threatening wounds, and the sheriff is still trying to figure out what charges to file because there’s no law against stupidity.