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About Chicago

So, this one time—true story, swear it—I sneaks into a parlor, right? Smells like lavender and sin, lights dim, music all plinky-plonky. Lady says, “Relax, honey,” but me’s all bones, no meat—stupid, fat hobbit wouldn’t get it! She rubs me shoulders, and I’m hissing, “Harder, yesss, like you mean it!” Felt good, real good—til she charged me double! “It’s not a hotel, Bebe!” she snaps, like in the movie. Pissed me off, it did—thought we had a deal! Greedy hands, not just for massaging, eh?