Main Ingredients:
apprentice
physical therapist
celery
heavy cream
picnic table

Spice Pack:
1/3 teaspoon of grouchiness
1/2 smidge of jolliness

Cheryl looks at Mr Pyne, lying there, face down on her picnic table. He’s not a large man by any means, shorter than her, but somewhat rotund, and the picnic table was designed for paper plates and snacks, not a middle aged man with a hairy back. Because of course he has his shirt off.

The table's legs are bowed.

“I think you misunderstand, Mr Pyne,” Cheryl tries, glancing around for Becky. She only went to get plastic cups, surely someone at this damn picnic has plastic cups? “I’m a physical therapist, and an apprentice at that, Becky’s the-” He makes a grumpy, dismissive noise through his walrus moustache and mumbles into the gingham tablecloth: “Physiotherapist, masseuse, you girls can get the kink out of my back and that’s all I care about. The lotion’s right there, I see it. Get to work.” His hand flails behind him, indicating the pot of heavy cream Becky had left over from making the sour cream and chive dip. They were going to have it with the fresh strawberries.

The table groans.

Cheryl considers the dip’s accompaniments - a plate of celery sticks and peeled carrots. A celery stick could work- then she won’t have to touch his gross back directly, can just spread the cream over him using the celery as a spatu- What is she thinking?! Just because he's some bigwig in Corporate doesn’t mean she has to do everything he says.

“Mr Pyne, I must insist-”

The picnic table makes a loud cracking sound as its spindly legs snap, depositing Mr Pyne on the ground, liberally coated in cream. He flounders and barks for help and attention, but Cheryl's doubled over laughing, as helpless as he is. The strawberries will taste all the sweeter now, even without the cream.