Doris booked a luxury couples spa weekend to help them “reconnect.” Frank, however, was thoroughly convinced it was just a high-priced hostage situation served with cucumber water. Within five minutes of arrival, he was already insulting his robe, calling it a “glorified towel with sleeves.”
During the session, Doris melted into pure bliss amid the soothing aromatherapy and whale sounds. Frank, on the other hand, fell fast asleep, snoring so violently that the therapist actually paused to check if he still had a pulse.
The tranquility shattered instantly when the therapist pressed a deep reflexology point on Frank’s foot.
Jolting awake, Frank began flailing wildly like a fish out of water. “WHO TOUCHED MY TOES?!” he shrieked in a panic. “Am I dead? Is this heaven? Doris, is that you?!”
Pure chaos erupted. Bottles of massage oil tipped over, the therapist slipped on a eucalyptus-scented towel, and Frank bellowed at the top of his lungs, “If this is what relaxation feels like, I’d rather wrestle wild raccoons behind a Waffle House!”
Doris calmly took a slow sip of her lemon water, smirked at her hyperventilating husband, and said:
“Well, look at the bright side, dear… next weekend, we’re trying goat yoga.”
