Though aged, Strappo had never submitted himself to -cures of either the mani or pedi varieties. Until he got a 50% discount and said, as further justification, "My feet hurt from my terrible nail-clipping and God knows what all."
So the discreet and skilled Diomery soaked, clipped, cleansed, scaled and otherwise tickled old Strappo's pedal extremities.
He was delighted but took umbrage when she and Josefina asked about polish. "Like for maricones?" He asked in mock-horror. The ladies and the two maricones got a big laugh out of that one.
Strappo felt fine and declared, "I feel like a king!"
"A KING?" exclaimed his companion.
Much laughter, though muted from Strappo, who prefers to make the final bravest quip.
After that hour of sybaritic luxury he admired his suddenly beautiful feet. They looked young and healthy, they looked and felt godly comfortable. Strappo declared, "I will never cut my toenails again!"
One decadent visit to the spa had created a monster of Lucullan extravagance and Caligulan depravity.
Et laetum erat ille strappus.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
two things i know nothing of...
1. birthing no babies
2. pedicures
i feel like i been done learned good today. thanks, unka strappo.
Posted by: Morgan | July 08, 2009 at 01:32 PM