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About Naples

It’s showtime! Alright, pal, lemme spill it—erotic-massage, huh? I’m a bailiff, mining dirt all day, so when I heard ‘bout this slippery biz, I was like—whaaat? Hands rubbin’ ya down, all sensual-like, not just for sore muscles? Sign me up, fam! I’m picturin’ it now—some dimly lit joint, oil slicker than a Timbuktu sandstorm, and bam, tension’s gone, baby! “The desert is a cruel mistress,” like they say in my fave flick, *Timbuktu*—but this? This ain’t cruel, it’s heaven!

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Then, outta nowhere, I see this old lady, Nonna Rosa, trying to cross the street. She’s like a legend around here. Everyone knows her. I rush over to help her, and she’s like, “Grazie, giovane!” I felt like a hero for a sec. But then, she starts telling me about her cat, Gigi, and how he’s been acting weird. I’m standing there, nodding, but inside I’m like, “Lady, I gotta get to work!” But hey, you can’t rush a legend, right?