time for a massage

feeling achy and sore

from working so hard,

i go for a massage

at the local

parlor. they slide

a menu in front of me

with pictures of various

women and men.

American, Russians, Asians.

i pick out my masseuse.

and put my finger on her photo.

what about her, i ask.

is she available.

she's a tiny Thai girl with muscles.

oh, really, Angel?

are you sure you want her,

the girl

at the desk says.

yes, i tell her. i want her.

we have to warn you,

she almost killed someone last

week by rubbing the heel

of her foot into a guy's

neck, then digging her elbow

into his kidney, which

he lost.

it's okay, i tell her.

i'm not scared. do i have

a safe word.

yes, they say. yell stop,

and push the red button

on the massage table,

we'll try to stop her,

but once she gets started,

we can't promise you

anything.