William Philippus Phelps works in a carnival as a Tattooed Man. He is an obese man with “almost feminine breasts.” On his platform, he watches his wife, Lisabeth, rip tickets: She stares at “the silver buckles of passing men” (258). The rose tattoos on his hands shrivel.

William reflects on why he had gotten the tattoos. Marital strife had caused him to binge eat and gain weight. Lisabeth had been disgusted by him, and the carnival boss threatened to fire him from his job as a tent man. The carnival had no need of a Fat Man, but it could use a Tattooed Man.

A month ago, William had learned of a tattoo artist in the Wisconsin hills. He found her in a shack, a witch-like figure whose eyes, nose, and ears are sewn shut. Undisturbed dust showed that she had been there a long time. She invited William in, claiming she is lonely. When he hesitated, she showed him a tattooed portrait of himself on her palm, which she said has been there for 50 years. She claimed to know him, and “the Deep Past and the Clear Present and the even Deeper Future” (261). She wanted to give him tattoos depicting the future, making him the only real Illustrated Man in the universe.