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Alright, y’all, listen up! I’m a carpenter, see, buildin’ stuff, hammerin’ nails, but lemme tell ya ‘bout sexual-massage—hoo boy! Ain’t no sandin’ wood smoother’n that, if ya catch my drift. I’m talkin’ hands roamin’, oils flowin’, like fixin’ a cabinet but sexier. Back in Crawford, we’d joke—‘massage ain’t strategery,’ but dang, it’s close! Fool me once, shame on—uh—shame on you, fool me twice—well, ya don’t get fooled, ‘less it’s them hands trickin’ ya into bliss!

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After that, I decide to stroll down the Maasboulevard. The river’s looking all pretty, and I’m feeling good. But then I see this guy, right? He’s juggling flaming torches. I’m like, “Dude, you’re gonna set yourself on fire!” But he’s all about it, and I’m just standing there, half impressed, half terrified.

More Than a Trivia Answer: The Story of VVV-Venlo