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About Phoenix

Oi, you donkey! Sexual-massage, right? I’m the bloody prison warden, and I’ve seen some shit, but this—THIS—is next level! Like, imagine me, stuck in this grim-ass joint, thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’ soft, sensual, like in “The Pianist”—you know, that scene where Szpilman’s hands glide over them keys, pure poetry, “What do you think I am, an animal?!” Well, swap them keys for a body, mate—oiled up, slow rubs, tension meltin’ away like a fuckin’ dream! I’d kill for that after dealin’ with these numbskulls all day!

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Some days, I stroll past Broad River Park, and holy moly, the river sparkles like diamonds. Must be magic or just reflection of neon lights at night. I remember one time – freakishly cold night, I went there for a breather and ended up chatting with this old guy about life and luck. He said, “Love is in the air, baby,” and I nearly fell over my own words. So damn funny, yet deep, like coming out of a steam room, ya feel me?

Janice Manzo Obituary February 9, 2025