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I tried it once—don’t judge me, Flanders! Was mad stressed, haulin’ cargo deadlines up my ass. Walked in, dim lights, weird music—like “The Assassin” vibes, all mysterious. Lady’s like, “Relax, big guy,” and I’m thinkin’, “D’oh! This ain’t no chiropractor!” Hands slidin’ everywhere—felt like a greased pig at a fair. Happy? Hell yeah! Surprised? You betcha—didn’t know toes could feel that sexy. Angry part? Cost me two weeks of Duff money—rip-off!

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Finally, I head back to the shop. I’m determined to make things right. I start working on a new stove, pouring my heart into it. I’m hammering away, and it feels good. I’m in the zone. Then, I hear a loud crash outside. I rush out, and there’s a street vendor’s cart tipped over. Hot dogs everywhere! I can’t help but laugh. “Only in Miresu-Mare!”