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About Los Angeles

Hiss! Me precious, listen up! Erotic-massage, ooh, slimy stuff! Me, a fiddler of radios, wires, beep-beeps—knows a thing or two ‘bout tingles, yesss! Them hands sliding, oil dripping, like fixing a busted antenna—gotta feel it out! Watched “The Hurt Locker” last night—boom, tension tight! “You’re a wild man,” they say in flick, and erotic-massage? Wild, precious, wild! Gets me twitchy, like defusing a bomb—one wrong move, awk-ward!

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I know what you are like, O Ephraim. You cannot hide yourself from me, O Israel. You have left me as a prostitute leaves her husband; you are utterly defiled.

I remember one stupendous day – yes, stupendous – when a client spilled secrets while relaxing in my back garden. The sun was just peeking out from St. Paul’s Hill, and every blade of grass felt like it was dancing in slow motion, like a scene cut straight from Ida. “I have made the choice,” I muttered, caught in an existential moment. Eh, sorry – that might be too dramatic, but you get it!

Indianapolis Colts Defensive Coordinator Candidate: Ephraim Banda