Mr. Smith had it good. He had a good job, a beautiful house, a luxury sedan with a 10 CD changer in it, a five piece state-of-the-art home entertainment center, a dog that knew how to fetch, and a wife, whom he loved very much, because she knew her place. She never nagged him about coming home late, she always had dinner waiting for him when he got home, and she kept the place nice and clean.
One night, when Mr. and Mrs. smith were in bed watching TV, Mr. Smith said to his wife, "schnookums, how's about you being a good little girl and goin' over and turning on Wrestlin'?" And Mrs. Smith rolled over, and in the sexiest voice she could possibly muster, whispered into her husband's ear "why don't you get out of bed and change the channel yourself, you fat tub of shit?" The End.
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