The rules? There’s no rules! Just try not to stay on topic and impersonate your best long-winded relative accent. I’ll start.
“All you youn’ fellers think you got it so easy nowadays, with your microwave ovens, your frozen yogourt, your postal abbreviations. Let me tell ya little beatniks, it wasn’t so easy back in the olden days, when your uncle Gerry and I were barely elbow-high on a chimpanzee, chimpanzees havin’ overrun the countryside that year after Mayor Nicklebee decided he was a-gonna’ turn the convent into a shipshape, state-of-the-art discount banana split emporium. Charged a lonely nickel for a banana split, and turned all the poor elderly nuns out on the street faster than you could say “fried chicken.” ‘Course nobody knew about fried chicken in the first place since the chimpanzees scared them all outta town with their screechin’ and their caterwaulin’, just around the time that old Joe McCreedy came to town. We called him the “Angel a’ Mercy,” on account-a him savin’ the town with his “Kiss a nun, win some pie!” scheme, which brought the tourists a-pourin’ in from Tampa to Tuscaloosa, seein’ as though there were more nuns on the street than figs on a cherry tree. I was in Tuscaloosa once…”