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About Queluz

“Tonight’s the night,” I mutter, thinkin bout Spielberg’s lil robot kid wantin love. Sexual-massage ain’t love, tho – it’s a transaction, a game. Like Gigolo Joe again, “I am programmed to please.” That’s the masseuse, bro – pros at playin ya like a fiddle. Ever tried it? Me neither, but I’d bet it’s a trip. Prolly exaggerate in my head – “Oh Dexter, you’re a god!” Nah, more like, “Pay up, weirdo.”

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Then, I get my coffee, and it’s cold. COLD! I’m fuming. I mean, how hard is it to serve a hot drink? I take a sip, and it’s like drinking regret. Ugh. So, I’m about to complain, but then I see this little kid at the next table. He’s got chocolate all over his face, and he’s just grinning like he’s won the lottery. I can’t help but smile. Kids, man. They get it.