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I tried it once, okay? Was pissed as hell—thought it’d be all classy, like in them fancy spa ads. Nope! Dude, this chick was knead’n my ass like dough, and I’m like, “Sweet Jesus, this is intense!” Got me all tingly, tho, can’t lie. Made me happy, sure, but also—WTF, why’s it so slippery? Prolly used some cheap-ass oil, smelled like tacos gone bad. Respect my authoritah, I deserve better!

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After a while, I finally hook a fish! It’s a beauty, too. I’m all pumped, ready to show it off. But just as I’m about to reel it in, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, Jón. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta come to the market on Aðalstræti!” I’m thinkin’, “Really? I’m kinda busy here!” But then he mentions fresh fish tacos. I’m sold. I let the fish go—sorry, buddy!—and head over.

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