It all began on a warm sultry night in Key West. I couldn't believe what I saw, a Jeep pulling a wheelie across a mound of cheese-eating surrender monkeys. The stench of odor coming from the burnt cheesy monkey feces reminded my father in-law of a zombie eating sweet potatoes on a fat sassy, naked, old Rosie O'Donnell cut-out.
Turned to Wifey and said: "That's what you get when you take one too many bottles of Viagra." Naturally, she replied: "but without them, you are worthless in the sack." After that comment, I grabbed my Jeep keys and proclaimed to them, "She will never be satisfied with Wrinkly old men, so she can always go to Poppy's Zombie Army as Chief of the flinger's of fluorescent monkey dung and little midget Hello-Kitty litter boxes!
Your father will have a cow when he hears about all the nuns you deflowered while you were a real boy loving chicken-hawk priest wearing Spandex pants.
Just then, a real cheese smoker walked in and unwound Saran Wrap.