After fifty years of marriage, Earl and Martha had learned to pick their battles.
But nothing prepared them for the Great Sofa Incident of Tuesday afternoon.

Earl plopped down in his favorite spot on the couch with a bag of chips and the TV remote.
Ten minutes later, he realized his arm had somehow slipped deep into the crack between the cushions… and wasn’t coming back out.

“Uh… Martha? Little help here?” Earl grunted, tugging furiously.

Martha peeked over her glasses, unimpressed.
“Earl, you’ve been stuck in worse things. Remember your belt buckle in the garage door? I’m busy.”

Five minutes later, Earl was still flailing.
Martha finally sighed, grabbed the phone, and said,
“Hello, fire department? My husband’s arm is stuck in the sofa.”

The dispatcher asked, “Is he hurt?”

Martha said, “Only his pride. But you’d better hurry before he eats all the snacks.”

Earl, still struggling, shouted,
“Ask them to bring the jaws of life… or at least a sandwich!”

Martha hung up and said with a smirk,
“They’re coming… after they stop laughing.”