So for the past couple of days, the piles were getting to me. Pain, occasionally pulsing pain, coming from the region of my shithole. The lumps were sensitive, sometimes too sensitive ( and when I had to use the toilet paper on it... man, it was like caressing a swollen boil with sandpaper ). Most importantly, the pain was free. I didn't have to pay a single cent and tada! Free pain.
This afternoon, in our quest for a hard drive to replace my ( once thought dead but apparently only faking then ) dying hard drive, Von Darke the elder managed to convince me to go for a foot massage. They call it foot reflexology, but I call it paid torture aka the pain which is not free. I give them RM30 and for the next 45 minutes, they destroy my feet and my back. It was half an hour on the feet and 15 minutes on the back and shoulders, but it felt like forever. Especially the feet part. Von Darke's masseur seemed to be of the lepak kind, but mine is a professional. A specialist. An artist. Someone who takes great pride in delivering the best massage session possible. A person who will stop at nothing to ensure that you get you RM30 worth of massage. He attacked his job with gusto and since my feet was his job, OH MY GOD you can imagine my agony. He poked HARD. He squeezed HARD. He pulled HARD. He pushed HARD. He is an artist, and my poor battered feet was his canvas. I'm a little surprised that I'm still able to walk properly.
Von Darke assures me that I will sleep well tonight. Given the amount of pain my body has been through these past few days, sleep will be my only reprieve.