Spud
does the Schvitz!
Spud returned to New York City in August of 2000, five months after the trouble he experienced in Times Square. Trying to keep a low profile, Spud removed the ring from his tongue so that the NYPD wouldn't hassle him. Eager to still find some excitement in the 'city that never sleeps', the potato asked a local cabbie for recommendations on where he could find a good, discrete massage parlour. The taxi driver told the tuber of a tiny foreign bathhouse that was located in the Lower East Side that he might find appealing. Spud's mind filled with visions of gorgeous Swedish women with warm, soothing oils and bubbling spas...Within minutes the side dish was deposited outside the 10th Street Bath house.
Standing outside the entrance, Spud noticed that the sign outside said Russian / Turkish bath house with no mention of Swedish. Oh well, he thought, I'm sure they have many beautiful women in Russia and Turkey... With that, the tuber went inside and down the steps into the basement of the building...eager with anticipation.
At
the bottom of the steps, Spud was met by a large man who spoke in badly
broken English. The tuber informed the man that he was there for a massage.
The man laughed heartily and bellowed in Russian to some of his friends
behind the counter. The man grabbed Spud's arm and showed him to
a dark stone room at the end of a corridor. "Go in room...someone
come" the burly man croaked.
Spud entered the room and the door slammed heavily behind him. Inside the small area was an immense stone furnace that belched out heat equal to the hottest nether regions of hell. There were a number of men in the room who sat motionless, overcome by the intense heat. Spud quickly found his peel was starting to shrivel up. He tried the door to try and escape the 400 degree temperature, but found it had been bolted shut from the other side. He was trapped with the others and there were no buxom masseuses to be found. About an hour later, Spud had drifted off into unconsciousness.and was little more than a baked potato with arms.
Suddenly the tater was shocked to life by a bucket of ice cold water that had been doused on his head by an enormous Russian with huge rippling muscles. "Haha...SCHVITZ!", he bellowed as Spud struggled to pick his heart up off the floor. Before he could tell what was going on, the strongman had forced the tuber's head onto the stone bench and began forcing his elbow into the back of Spud's head. "Tight knot, Comrade!" the Russian roared as he continued to work his arm deep into Spud's cranium. The tuber's plastic head began to crack under the pressure and the tater bellowed in pain.
Another
shadow emerged from the corner of the room clutching a large oak branch
and a cloister of leaves that had been dipped in scalding olive oil. The
shadow swung out and began lashing the terrorized tuber with the branch.
"Ya Ya .. PLATZA" the man barked as he continued to flog the
potato.
The heat and trauma overcame Spud and he passed out on the hot stone. Three hours later, Spud was once again jolted to consciousness by another bucket of ice cold water! "SCHVITZ!!" the huge figure shouted before exiting the room, leaving the door ajar behind him. Dazed and weary from his ordeal, Spud hastily made his way out of the scorching dungeon and to the safety of the New York street above.
The cracked skull, erratic heart palpitations and deep oak leaf engravings were a heavy price to pay to have a peel soft as a freshly harvested yukon gold.