"Well", I said in my best alien falsetto. "We don't think of Wiener's weener chopped up as peperroni bits. BTW, Mr. King, is that a real human hair transplant you'rer sporting? Gawd, you must be close to 80!"
"Actually, in case you've forgotten," Larry answered, "on my mother planet, gaunt, frail, balding, wrinkly, men with poor posture, are considered to be the ultimate sex gods. And we can only achieve maximum sexiness through marriage to many, many earth females."
Still, creepy vacations to other planets was the last thing on my mind. I had to escape. But how? was the obvious question, and did I take Pam with me or leave her to Larry King and Congressman Wiener's mercy?
"Yes," she said. "Perhaps America will understand his need to expose his human self on Twitter was really only a manifestation of anger and shame, since he has been forced to hide his true supernatural nature. Perhaps this way, he will be forgiven by his wife, the few dozen or so shocked and emotionally scarred college co-eds, his constituents and his political party. In fact, I think it's time we elected a were-skunk-dolphin to The White House."
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