CLANCY OVERELL | Editor | CONTACT
Thirty minutes into a one-off massage, local man Simon Flatley is now remembering why he doesn’t do this that much.
After ordering a textbook no-nonsense deep tissue body rub, Simon is now wondering if he should be putting his ability to walk in the hands of a 60 kilogram Thai masseuse.
The massage in itself comes from some weird impulsive decision that is a direct result of Simon not knowing how to spend his weekends after breaking up with a long-term girlfriend last month.
With the waterfall music playing in the background and incense burning, the heartbroken 20-something says it feels like going 10 rounds of hell in the cell with Triple H.
As a very pointy knee his jammed into the centre of his back, the hungover construction manager begins wondering if anyone has ever suffered a bone fracture or similarly debilitating injury as a result of a suburban body massage.
“It’ll be alright” he says to himself.
“This is the good massage parlour”
Simon reconciles his decision, telling himself that rolling the dice on a long-term spinal injury in the name of relaxation will be a much better for his body and soul than having to look at himself after yet another afternoon spent drunkenly betting on greyhounds.
