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But real talk—humans still rule this game. Didja know, in ancient China, emperors got these rubdowns? Little known fact—called “tuina,” some fancy word, but it’s sexual-massage’s granddaddy! Freaky, right? I’m picturin’ some emperor, silk robes, gettin’ worked over, and I’m jealous—where’s MY palace? Today, it’s all shady parlors—neon signs, “Massage,” wink-wink. Drives me insane—can’t tell legit from sleazy! Once went to one—true story—lady’s like, “Happy ending?” I’m like, “What am I, a Pixar movie?” Laughed my ass off, but damn, I was tempted!

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First call comes in. It’s this bloke from Abbey Street, right? He’s all panicky, like he’s just seen a ghost or something. Turns out, he lost his dog. I mean, I get it, dogs are family, but mate, chill! I’m trying to calm him down, but he’s rambling about how his dog, “Buster,” is the best dog ever. I’m like, “Dude, I’m sure Buster’s fine. Just check the park.”

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