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Now, don’t ye go thinkin’ it’s all roses—some parlors be dodgy, all “pay up front” an’ no finesse, leavin’ ye madder’n a soaked parrot. But when it’s good? Blimey, it’s like findin’ treasure without a map! Me fave bit? When they hit that spot—ye know the one—an’ ye’re groanin’, “Ofelia, don’t stop!”—wait, nay, that’s the movie talkin’, ha! Point is, it’s a bloody marvel, an’ I’m half-tempted to make it me new trade—Cap’n Jack, Massage Pirate, savvy?

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But then, outta nowhere, the sky goes dark. I’m thinkin’, “Oh great, here comes the rain.” And then it starts pourin’. I’m talkin’ torrential downpour. I’m soaked in seconds. I run for cover under this tree, and I’m just standin’ there, laughin’ at the absurdity of it all. Like, really? This is how my day’s gonna go?