Comedy Stories


“So, what’s the catch?”

“There is no catch. Cover my yoga class this evening, and I’ll pay you fifty bucks.”

“But I’ve never taught a yoga class.”

“Well, don’t let that stop you.”

“I’ve never even been to a yoga class…”

“And I’ve never gone out with Troy Henderson. Tonight will be a night of firsts.”

“Fifty bucks?”

“Fifty bucks and I’ll throw in a half bottle of coconut water.”

“Deal. Now explain it to me like I’m a five year old. What exactly do I have to do?”

“It couldn’t be any simpler. Get to the yoga studio five minutes before class begins. Tell Reikki that I’m out sick and you’re subbing for me.”

“A bold-faced lie seems like an inauspicious way to start a meditative healing journey…”

“Healing journey, my ass. My yoginis are a pack of middle aged women looking for an excuse to get away from their husbands for an hour or two.”

“So you’re allegedly sick and I’m supposedly a yoga instructor. What do I need to bring?”

“Take my yoga mat with you.”

“That’s a long bath mat from Target.”

“Yes, I know, but it was on sale.”

“Got it. Fake yoga mat. Check. Do I need the foam blocks and belt-looking thing?”

“No, but bring them anyway. They’ll give you credibility.”

“What are they for?”

“Nothing. We just unpack them and set them off to the side.”

“Okay. Lie. Mat. Fake props. What’s next?”

“When the class arrives, go to the front of the studio and unfurl the mat in grand solemnity. Smile at the class coyly, as if you hold the wisdom of the ages and will impart it to them one half-spinal twist at a time.”

“A coy smile…like this?”

“Coy, not guilty. You look like a black lab who’s eaten a carton of eggs off the counter.”

“How’s this?”

“Better, but just to be safe—smile regularly.”

“Lie. Mat. Fake props. Smile. Then what?”

“Take my portable speaker. I’ll airdrop you a YouTube playlist with some mystical 432 hertz meditation music—”

“Come again?”

“Meditation music. It’s woo woo.”

“What does the woo woo do?”

“Well, according to Kepler, 432 hertz is the frequency consistent with the sacred ratio.”

“What does that mean?

“The sacred ratio is considered to be the original harmonic intonation of the universe.”

“That’s great, but what does that mean?”

“I have no idea. Just fire up the link and play the music.”

“Lie. Mat. Fake props. Smile. Woo woo.”

“Now, invite the yoginis to sit in Padmasana.”

“Pad Thai, what?”

Padmasana. Criss cross applesauce, but upside down.”

“So they are upside down.”

“No, their feet are crossed on opposite thighs.”

“That makes zero sense.”

“Don’t worry about it. Middle aged ladies have mastered the art of sitting down. Just keep repeating these phrases out loud very slowly and in frequent intervals: Listen to your body. Root down to rise up. If you are having a restorative practice, we will meet you in the pose of your choice. That’ll send most of them into a Savasana.”

“O Suzannah?”

Savasana. The corpse pose.”

“Should I outline them in chalk?”

“It’s a peaceful corpse, not a murder victim. Call a Savasana and they’ll lie on their backs like starfish. You eat up the last fifteen minutes of class with that one.”

“Lie. Mat. Fake props. Smile. Woo woo. Pad Thai with applesauce. Law & Order Special Victims Unit pose. I got it!”

“Lead them in a choral vocalization. Moan om for a count of eight or nine. They really like this. Watch them try to out-om each other.”


“No. Au-om…”

“Ayam? Umm?”


“Can we skip the om’s?”

“Sure. But don’t skip the cat-cow’s.”

“So, meow? Moo?”

“No, cat-cow’s are poses, not chants. Just the om’s are chants.”

“Got it.”

“Halloween cat, breathe out. Milk the cow, breathe in.”

“Old MacDonald had a yoga studio…”

“Are you taking this seriously?”

“I’m taking the fifty bucks. After the Farmer and the Dell, what do I do?”

“Talk about how you saw a blade of grass that reminded you of the simplicity of life. Have them tap their feet on the floor to ground themselves.”

“Like coffee beans.”

“Not like coffee beans!”

“Can I talk about how I can’t make rent this month and set out a tip jar?”

“No tip jar.”


“They’re already paying $27.50 for a live Hatha yoga class. They could watch a thousand hours of yoga classes online for free.”

“Okay. Then what do I do?”

“Throw in some deep breathing. Tell them to inhale for a count of four, six, eight…whatever. Just keep it to an even number in the single digits. Then tell them to exhale and add two or more beats each time. Remind them that breath is life. Tell them to breathe into the side body. Breathe into their legs.”

“You can’t breathe into your legs. That’s not anatomically possible.”

“You are directing breath, not actually breathing breath.”

“If you say so.”

“Just make sure you count.”

“To what?”

“Any number. Just tell them to change sides.”

“Why do I have to count out loud?”

“It makes them feel like they are accomplishing something. Count off like you are calling out bingo numbers.”

“Okay, then is class over?”

“No, that’s just the first five minutes. I’ll text you the rest of the script to read—word for word. Just be sure to intone every word with authority.”

“With authority!”

“Read. Every. Word. Like. It’s. Essential. For. Their. Eternal. Soul.”

“Let me ask you a question. Do you think it will pose a problem if I just ate a plate of edibles?”

“You ate the brownies I left in the fridge?”

“I’m pretty sure.”

“Well, it’s never stopped me before. Best of luck.”

“You, too. Enjoy Troy.”

🜋 🜋 🜋

“Hey, here’s the fifty bucks for covering my yoga class. How did it go?”

“Honestly? I showed up late, spewed a lot of gibberish, overshared, embarrassed myself, cried in the parking lot, then drove straight home. How was your date with Troy Henderson?”


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