Yenta Body Massage

Now that I have your attention, I’d like to tell you a story.

There are some stories that just have to be told. And this is one of them.

A true story with the exception of plot, characters, and time frame, but nevertheless a one-of-a-kind epic that is destined to be right up there with “Moby Dick”, “Huckleberry Finn”, “The Grapes of Wrath”
and similar submissions on Stickmanbangkok.com.

This is “The Story of Eli”. Not to be confused with “The Book of Eli” which is a film staring Denzel Washington. Because quite frankly, even Denzel would have a hard time playing a Nomadic Jew who ends up in Thailand
running a Yenta body massage parlor. But who knows, a little Spielberg magic and Voila!…..dozens of elegantly dressed body massage girls behind a glass partition all wearing yarmulkes. I can see it now—9 Academy Awards including Best Costume
Design. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

No, this is not even “The Story of Eli”. It’s just a story of a guy named Eli. For many of you, stories and books have a lot in common. This one just doesn’t.

There is a little patch of land between Palestine and Israel that no one wants. In fact, it’s the only patch of land in the world that each side agrees the others’ own, and begs the other side to keep it. And if there ever could
be a war where both sides fight to give up property, this would be the place. It’s also the place where Eli was born.

Eli comes from a long line of chicken pluckers. Eli’s great-grandfather, grandfather, and father, were all chicken pluckers. The lineage goes so far back, some family members believe Jesus was a chicken plucker. And it’s a good
thing he wasn’t. Because chicken plucker in Yiddish is “Shiken Flucker”. And God knows what the world would be like now if baby Jesus was the “Shiken Flucker from Nazareth”.

The fact is, Eli’s family owned a chicken farm. Not a gynormous chicken farm, but one big enough to stock a couple of KFC’s on the West Bank of Jerusalem. This modicum of success provided young Eli with the means to be the first
member of his family to attend university. And it’s a good thing he had a little means, because young Eli was not the brightest candle in the menorah. Attending Southwest Gaza State University was in itself a challenge. Not because the
walls of the university were all sand bunkers, but because getting from one class to the next was troublesome if you just happen to get hit in the head with a scud missile. Luckily, Eli managed to dodge a few, and still get his homework in
on time.

One day, in his animal husbandry class, Eli was faced with a monumental problem. The question put before his class: “How do you get chickens to multiply faster?” Of course, Eli was an expert with anything that had to do with
chickens. Incubation temperatures, food intake and mating habits were all his specialty. Not him mating with chickens a la ‘shiken flucker’, but chickens mating with each other. And one can never be too sure that young Eli didn’t
see certain similarities in the mating rituals of humans and chickens, because as an experiment, he had the ingenious idea to feed an entire flock of male chickens crushed up little blue pills of Viagra. The result being, 37 erect roosters
with no one to fluck. Unless you count the time when all the roosters were accidentally released into a pen of 18 camels.

Now here’s where some writers might have a bit of writer’s block.

Trying to describe the frenzy of 36 erect roosters attempting to hump 18 two-humped camels doggie style is not easy. What’s easier to describe is the one remaining rooster who showed great restraint by sitting in the corner and giving
himself a beak job. Not only did Eli ace that class, but he patented the formula for chicken Viagra, calling it the “Cock-a-Doodle Dandy Pill,” and became an overnight billionaire.

The university was so proud of him, they named a bunker after him. And it spurred Eli to discover and patent many more medical breakthroughs in the field of chicken flucking. Eli had so much money, he didn’t know what to do with
it. He moved his whole family to Beverly Hills, and they became the Israeli version of the Beverly Hillbillies. The six A lister’s who lived on his block sold their mansions and moved to Montana just to be closer to more culture.

It didn’t take long for Eli to get the travel bug. He wanted to see the world, and he did. He traveled for 10 years, to every continent, til he finally ended up in a little out of the way country called Thailand. And even though
by then he was a well-traveled man, he was not quite up to the challenges that are presented in Stickman’s website every day. In fact, we can say that poor Eli made the guy who got shafted in Stephan Leather’s “Private Dancer”
look like a genius. Besides coming down with gonorrhea, syphilis, and herpes in the same week, he was poisoned and robbed by a ladyboy, mugged by a Thai cop, run over by a tuk tuk, and had his hotel safe cleaned out by the maid. And this was
at the Peninsula. Yea, I know what you’re thinking….some guys have all the luck.

Well, it turned out, that poor Eli did have some. He spent a month at Bumrungrad Hospital in Bangkok recovering from his diseases and 3 broken ribs, and a shattered male ego. Yes, Eli had learned his lesson. No more go-go bars. No more
body massages. No more karaoke girls, or escorts, or BJ bars, or freelancers.

Quite simply, Eli didn’t trust Thai women. He thought they were beautiful, but he just couldn’t get his mind past all the lies and scams. Hell, the only women he did trust were his grandmother, his mother, his two sisters, and
three goat-herding cousins who lived next door to him growing up. All Yentas.

He thought, if only Thai women could be Yentas—that would be the perfect combination. So much kvetching combined with so much trust. How could any man want more.

And then it hit him like an erect rooster running cock-first into a camel’s ass. Why not open up your own body massage parlor and fill it with Yentas? No more beautiful Thai stunners with long flowing silk hair, baby smooth skin
and eyes to get lost in. No more Thai smiles that could melt an iceberg. All those false promises exchanged for so little baht.

No! Beautiful Yentas with curly fizzled locks, a little overweight perhaps, mistrusting eyes, with a slight frown. Ok, not perfect, but trustworthy as any female on the planet. Willing to give you her all, even if she’s painting
her toenails at the same time. I mean what man wouldn’t kill for a woman like that?

So Eli did what every man who comes to Bangkok thinks of doing. He bought property right across the street from the Arab’s go-go bars in Soi Cowboy, and went into business for himself. He turned the property into the first Yenta
body massage parlor in all of Thailand. Now, men from all over the world could come get a body massage from a Yenta. He’d bring in the girls from Israel, New York, and L.A. Real Yentas. Yentas who were experts in screwing. And experts
in screwing you over. It was a perfect fit. He’d get a Yenta mamasan to run the place, kinda like Joan Rivers. Girls who could give the customer a guilt trip while bringing them to orgasm. Or even better, just before the ultimate climax,
threaten to sue the bastard. Now those girls you can trust. A woman whose eyes you can look directly into and see the reflection of your credit cards.

It might even change Thailand forever. Yenta soapies, Yenta karaoke bars, Yenta go-go bars, Yenta escorts and Yenta ladyboys. Hell, why not?

So Eli did it. Soi Cowboy turned into Soi Yenta overnight, becoming the most popular entertainment complex in the whole world.

Just a story that needed to be told.

Especially to all you wonderful followers of Stickmanbangkok.com who spend all your days debating the differences between Western women (Yentas) and Thai women.

Now you know.