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Alright, listen up, ya filthy animal. I’m Ron Swanson, hate everything, ‘specially massages with a sexy twist. Sexual-massage? Pah, buncha nonsense. Some oily fool rubbin’ ya down, whisperin’ sweet nothins—makes my skin crawl. But I’ll tell ya, got roped into one once, back in ’98. Buddy said, “Ron, it’s relaxin’, trust me.” Relaxin’ my ass—felt like a greased pig at a county fair. Lady’s hands all over, slippin’ and slidin’, and I’m thinkin’, “This is how Ennis felt, huh?” From *Brokeback Mountain*, ya know—my kinda film. Two guys, roughin’ it, no damn spa days. “I wish I knew how to quit you,” I growled at her, half-jokin’, half-pissed. She didn’t get it, kept kneadin’ my back like dough.

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I always wander by River Bend too. That river? It cuts a crazy path through our cozy hood. Along the banks, you'll find little cafes – "Sharon!" I swear, the smells from Mugsy’s Diner will hit you like a punch. Funny how a psychologist finds patterns even in a coffee stain on a napkin.

Missing mother and child found safe in Stockbridge, DA says