Whole Paycheck and a Massage

A trip to Whole Foods yesterday, and after the cashier asked for almost all the money in my checking account in exchange for the one paper bag that was half-full of merchandise, I stopped breathing. The tension ran from the top of my head down to my ankles. Then, putting in my pin number, I noticed the "Massages Here" sign. "Press no, Sir, if you do not want any cash back" the sweet clerk said, the perfect diction giving away the fact that she was surely an actress with lots of voice training. "You can get a massage at Whole Foods?" I asked. "Yes. Many people get them," she answered. "I bet they do. Probably saved a lot of lives, kept them from stroking out, once you robbed them." She smiled. "Maybe so. Here is your receipt." Mesmerized by the concept, quickly walking toward the area for a closer look, I forgot to say "thank you " to the clerk. Both tables had bodies on them, and the masseuses were energetically kneading and rubbing. Two more people, a sexy, tanned brunette and her Italian or Mediterranean male companion, sat in chairs, waiting. A brilliant concept. It's like punching someone in the eye then offering them concealer to cover up the shiner.