It’s frankly appalling the lengths people go to worship me. Every day someone crams coupons and credit card offers in my mailbox. While I appreciate their generosity, I feel so violated that I never leave my house without wearing a disguise (usually a Mexican wrestling mask).
Then, one day at the MacDonalds drive-thru I’m having a seemingly normal conversation with a giant clown face when he offers to “supersize my fries” for just 39 cents. I suddenly realize that this is no ordinary giant talking clown head, but rather one of my fans offering sexual favors in secret code.