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Hey man, so I’m Dexter—monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.”—and I’m here, thinkin bout sexual-massage, yeah, that slippery stuff. Been readin up, like an economist, right? Supply, demand, all that jazz. Sexual-massage ain’t just rubbin—its a freakin market! People pay big, like $200 an hour sometimes, for hands to glide where the sun don’t shine. Crazy, huh? Makes me wonder—why so pricey? Oh wait, illegallity jacks up the cost, duh! Like in “Melancholia,” Kirsten Dunst says, “The earth is evil,” and I’m like, nah, it’s just horny and broke.

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But then, BAM! My phone buzzes. It’s my buddy Marco. He’s like, “Yo, meet me at the old bridge!” I’m thinkin’, “Great, more adventure!” So I dash over to Ponte di Dronero. It’s this ancient stone bridge, super picturesque. I get there, and Marco’s already there, lookin’ all serious. He’s like, “I got a surprise for ya.” I’m like, “What? A new guitar?”

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