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About Pecs

So, picture this—me, clumsy git, stumblin’ into some dodgy parlour. Dim lights, weird incense—smells like Gran’s attic, hmph! Lass says, “Lie down, relax”—yeah, right! Me legs flailin’, knockin’ over candles—woosh, nearly torched me trousers! “Gotta get out!” I’m thinkin’, but nah, stayed for the rub-down. Hands on me back—ooh, tingly! Like jelly on a trampoline, wobble-wobble.

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When the lights finally flicker back on, I’m relieved. But then, I see this lady at the end of the bar. She’s got this look on her face like she just lost her best friend. Turns out, she dropped her phone in her drink. I mean, c’mon! Who does that? I try to cheer her up, sayin’, “Hey, at least it’s not a wine spritzer!” She didn’t laugh. Tough crowd.

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