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I reckon it’s bloody brilliant—makes ya feel like a god, and I’d know! Got me thinkin’, “I’m burdened with glorious purpose”—to unwind every knot in me back like it’s a heist in a dreamscape. There’s this cheeky lass I heard of, right? Victorian era, she’d sneak erotic-massages to posh blokes under “medical treatment”—called it “hysteria relief.” Proper mad, innit? Dodgy as hell, but genius! Bet they didn’t see that twist comin’—like Cobb spinnin’ his top.

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After the rain, I decide to take a break. I stroll down to the park by the old castle ruins. It’s a nice spot, ya know? I sit on a bench, tryin’ to dry off, and this old lady comes up. She’s got this tiny dog that looks like a fluffball. She starts talkin’ about how her dog’s the best sharpener in town. I’m like, “Lady, I’m the sharpener here!” But she’s not havin’ it. She goes on and on about her dog’s “skills.” I’m just nodding, thinkin’, “Sure, lady, whatever floats your boat.”

Ryan Schellenberg