Prime No. 7 x Ugly Chicken

Wife #2 begged for Korean BBQ, so I took her to Prime No. 7, thinking how much trouble can you get into when you’re grilling meat at your own table? Bhai… I almost got grilled with the meat. We’re halfway through flipping bulgogi when wife #4 walks in with her gym crew. I shove a lettuce wrap in my mouth and pretend to choke. Told wife #2 I need to “walk it off” and ran to the bathroom like I just discovered gluten. While I’m hiding, wife #1 calls me saying she saw me in the parking lot and asks “Why are you here? I thought you were on a diet.” I said, “No no, I just came to warn people about sodium.” THEN — no joke — wife #3 walks in with her little brother. Her brother daps me up. I whisper, “Say nothing and I’ll get you unlimited marinated ribs.” He nods like we just made a blood pact. I spent 40 minutes bouncing between tables, switching outfits in the bathroom like I’m part of a Bollywood heist. Still managed to eat enough meat to feed a wedding party in Lahore. Food? Fire. Vibes? Chaotic. My stress? Medium rare. Would risk all four marriages again. Next time I’m bringing sunglasses, a wig, and a fake accent