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About Vasteras

Okay, so—little known fact! Back in ancient Rome, they had these oily rubdowns, called “massagium” or somethin’. Rich dudes paid big sesterces for it! Prolly got all tingly in their togas—ha! Imagine that, some senator goin’, “Oh yeah, harder!” Makes me giggle like a kid stealin’ Bart’s candy. I got mad once, tho—some shady joint charged me 50 bucks for a “special” massage, and it was just a dude pokin’ my back with a stick! Rip-off! I yelled, “D’oh! Gimme my money!” But when it’s good? Oh man, happy Homer! Like when Marge rubs my shoulders—almost erotic, but nah, she’s too sweet.

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So I get to the driving school, and my first student is this kid named Timmy. Sweet kid, but he’s got the attention span of a goldfish. We hop in the car, and I’m like, “Alright, Timmy, let’s hit the road.” We’re on Storgatan, and he’s already fumbling with the seatbelt. I’m thinkin’, “Dude, focus!”