GOT BEEF?

A couple of weeks ago some buddies and I went down to the skate park to grind ’n flip a few. We go down almost three times a week if not more. It’s the perfect place to hang and be with my friends, but it’s also the best way to get away from home. Bleh! Home, one more year and I’m out.
In any case, we went down to the park and flipped a few. I got some good air and didn’t bail off the railing when I tried for crooks. A few quick grabs, nothing fancy and I was ready to call it a day.
Trevor, Santos and I sat on our decks and started shooting the shit.
Santos: “Hey yo, Grubbie. Why don’t you come with us to the ink shop? We are gonna watch Wes get a tattoo of a halfpipe on his leg. It’s gonna be sick!”
Me: “Yo man! That’s sick! Of course I’m comin’”
Trevor: “Yeah well, let’s just see what happens when we get there. Knowing Wes, this is all just some bogus scheme to get us to think he’s cool. Anyhow, I don’t think he got his parents permission.”
Me: “Oh yeah? You need permission for that shit? Hmm…”
Santos: “Whatcha thinkin’ Grubbie? What’s with the ‘hmm’?”
Me: “Neh man. Nothin’, I was just thinkin’ I could fake it, no?”
Trevor: “You could totally fake it dude! Just sign his mom’s name on some piece of paper sayin’: yo it’s cool to tat up my son.’”
Santos: “Yeah! Write one for me too, man. I wanna get something gnarly.”
Trevor: “Whatcha thinkin’ of getting?”
Santos: “Not sure yet. But something for sure.”
Me: “I’m gonna write one for all of us, dude. This is gonna be the illest! So stoked right now!”
Santos: “Dude! You should totally get something huge way across your chest! Ha Ha! That would be awesome! Like: ‘what’s up?’ or somethin’”
Me: “No way man, that’s just stupid.”
Trevor: “Do it man. That would be hilarious! I’ll pay you a hundred bucks if you do it.”
Me: “Really?”
Santos: “Yeah. And I’ll pay for the tattoo.”
Me: “Really?”
The three of us skated over to the tattoo parlor, walked in and slammed our ‘permission slips down on the counter and asked for a deal on four tats. The guy behind the counter was slick, all tatted up and scary ’n shit. He knew right away that we were underage and that our slips were bogus, but he didn’t get all logistic on us. He waved me over and asked me what I wanted. I didn’t want to go first, but I couldn’t look all uncool in front of my buddies.
Me: “Guys, I don’t know if I should do this. My parents are gonna be all up in my face. This is nuts. I don’t want beef with them, I got one more year at home and then I’m out. Maybe I’ll do it then.”
Santos: “No way man! You gotta do this now man! If you don’t do it now it ain’t just your parents you’ll have beef with. Ha! Ha!”
Me: “All right man. Here goes.”
And there you have it. Look, I don’t want no beef with nobody. I ain’t no chicken and I don’t wanna be bullied, so that’s that. You have a problem with that? What? Got Beef?