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About Celje

Hey, pal, lemme tell ya bout sexual-massage, alright? Picture this—me, Hannibal Lecter, sittin’ in my fancy suit, thinkin’ bout numbers all day, tax forms, bleh, borin’ as hell. Then bam, sexual-massage pops in my head, like a freaky lil escape. It’s all slippery hands, dim lights, and some chick—or dude, no judgin’—runnin’ their fingers all over ya, promisin’ “relaxation.” Ha! Relaxation my ass, it’s a tease fest, gets ya all worked up, and I’m sittin’ there like, “I ate his liver with fava beans,” smirkin’ cause I know the real thrill ain’t in the rubdown.

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She disrobed and, while nude, massaged him, and fondled his genitals. Subsequent to the fondling, he arrested her for public indecency and prostitution.

Anyway, I finally catch the rat. Took me a good 20 minutes, but I got it! I’m feelin’ like a champ. But then, I realize I gotta take it to the other side of town, near the river. So, I’m lugging this rat in a box, and it’s squeakin’ like crazy. I’m walkin’ down the beautiful Ljubljanica River, and I can’t help but think how peaceful it is. But then, BAM! A pigeon poops on my shoulder. Seriously? Just my luck!

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