Drive-by by proxy

What you need to know to make this story make sense:
1. We have a baby. (Well, gee, no shit Donnelly, really? As it's the only thing you ever talk about, I'm pretty sure we all would have caught on without you mentioning it. [Stuff it, smartass])
2. Mr. Grammatarian has some tattoos, piercings, and, most pertinent to the story, brandings.
3. When I say "drive-by" I mean a "Mommy drive-by," you know, that really annoying thing random people do where they sort of blind-side you with parenting advice/snark that is always delivered in that tone of voice that implies disbelief that you have been allowed unsupervised custody of a child and thank god they came along just in time, paragon of parenting that they are, at just the right moment with their bit of Dr. Phil drivel that will, no doubt, change the entire way you look at raising your children and save the poor dears from a lifetime of therapy? Yeah, I hate that.

So, the story is this: Mr. G was at work today when one of his co-workers noticed, apparently for the first time, the tribal branding he has around his bicep. I wasn't there, so I'm going to insert my imagined stage directions for your benefit.
Setting: the kitchen at the office.
Co-worker: [pointing, hand to mouth, wide eyes] "WHAT is that!!!! Did you have a tattoo removed?"
Mr. G: [raised eyebrow, sidelong glance, long-suffering sigh] "No, it's a branding." [voice over internal monologue "You fucking idiot, do you seriously think I would go to the effort of getting a tattoo just to remove it? Who do you think I am? Do I look like a college-aged girl with her boyfriend's name inked onto my ass to you? Seriously, could you be more insulting. You know, I could kill you quite handily with nothing more than the frothing attachment on this espresso machine. i could make it look like an accident..." Fade away into incoherent mumbling.]
Death-defying co-worker: [Look of surprise, quickly followed by an expression which could be interpreted as dawning shock/horror, or that particular gleam stupid people get in their eyes when they think they're about to make a funny.] "You're not going to do that to the BABY, are you?" [Takes step closer to Mr. G and, not incidentally, the espresso machine.]
Mr. G: [Blink. Blnk blink.] "What? No. Of course not." [voice over internal monologue: What. The. Fuck?? Are you high? You honestly...you think I would...who ARE you?...burn designs into the perfect flesh of my beloved son like some sort of twisted...that's it, it's official, the frothing attachment is too good for the likes of you..." Close up of Mr. G's eyes scanning quickly left and right. Pan around to rest on used chopsticks laying next to half empty stryofoam take-out container "Aha, with those, I can pull your spleen out of your ear. I think I have no choice. I hate you."]
Soon to be spleenless co-worker: "Oh, hahah, yeah. Anyway, I'm having some trouble with my email, and I was wondering if you..."
[Fade to black over co-worker yammering and Mr. G slowly edging towards chopsticks.]
At least, that's how it went in my mind.
Who the FUCK thinks that, just because a parent has body modification, they're are going to fucking BRAND their baby? The hell? Do you see many tattooed babies where you fucking come from, you pompous shit goblin? Yeah, we're JUST the type of people who would take a white-hot bit of metal to our 3 and a half month old baby so that he could be the bad boy of the pre-school play-yard. While we're at it, we're thinking of putting in 2-gauge plugs in his earlobes, a septum ring and a great big Old English font tattoo of "Show me your tits" across his forehead. Yes, our baby wears black clothes. Yes, he has little black booties with a skull and crossbones on them. No, we're not going to cause excruciating pain and permanent disfigurement to the baby we tried so hard to make and whom we love more than life itself. I guess we're just not that hip. Hell, he's not even circumsized. ARGH!