So, PETA came around and staged a sit-in on my lawn.
But I recognized three of them as being agents of, respectively, the CIA, the FBI and Interpol.
So I outed them all and enjoyed the subsequent bruhaha.
But I was forced to seek asylum in Venezuela (ugh).
So I bought a ticket on a flight to Caracas.
But just as the plane took off we were hijacked to Indianapolis.
So I went to Lucas Oil Stadium and cheered for Andrew Luck
But I was thrown out 'cause there wasn’t a game that day.
So, as long as I was in Indiana anyway, I stopped by David Letterman’s Mom’s house for milk and cookies.
But she was down at the Indianapolis Speedway, hoping to get in some practice time to qualify for next year’s race.
So, I headed to the Brickyard, where I was immediately seduced by Danica Patrick.
But we were attacked by race fans who were upset that she’s not driving in the 500 anymore.
So, I yelled “Look, a gay wedding,” and the race fans all ran off to protest it, allowing me and Danica to sneak off to Motel 6.
But Tom Bodett forgot to leave the light on for us.
So, I took that as a sign that I was destined for celibacy, and headed off to join a monastery.
But at the last minute I changed my mind and instead hitchhiked to Vegas to win The Grand International Slot Machine Tournament.
So when I got there it turns out that flyer on my windshield at the Piggly Wiggly was wrong.
But I did win a little on a side bet on how many billboards made a “loosest slots!” joke.
So I took a jet to Monte Carlo.
But it was hijacked by a group of Al Quaeda renegades, who took us to Saudi Arabia.