Personal Invitation

    An unmarked hearse will pick you up at exactly 8:17pm. After being blindfolded, the driver, who speaks only Yiddish pig-Latin, will deliver you to a secret roof-top cabaret featuring all nude midget wrestling in jam made from sour grapes. Dinner will begin with aborigine blow fish fruit cocktails, ever so delicately decorated with tiny umbrellas made from tanned stretched squid skins, and continue with a flaming entree’ of 100 year dried egg yolks, powdered with belladonna root, served on platters made with the anti-burn panels from the first Russian space shuttle. The flames are put out as the dried root and egg mixture is snorted through bamboo shoots, formerly used as torture batons in the Golan Heights.
  Immediately after dinner, as the blow fish toxins are mixing with the belladonna in our blood streams, we’ll take the hearse back to my place at precisely 127.63 miles per hour, stimulating the sciatic nerve and pituitary gland. This will put us in that perfect state of complete blind arousal. Assuming you can perform the one-handed Malaysian handstand, while masturbating with an ivory Tibetan prayer phallus, I will inflate the angioplastic balloon in my penis with pure helium. By attaching the high B-flat wire from a Selzmer piano to one end of the prayer phallus and the other to my hands and feet, tied behind me like a calf in a prison rodeo, we should reach simultaneous orgasm as my cock bounces off the ceiling. It would, of course, be absolutely vital that you hold your body in a perfect Y formation during thrusting, so that as I come on the 12th century Italian ceiling tiles, deflating my helium device, you can catch me with your feet, and twirl me into a conveniently placed tank of strawberry flavored placentic jelly with electrostatic sensitive hook-ups. This will transmit a digital recording of our sex act, world wide via internet, as a secret group of militant Buddhist venture capitalists, dressed as identical clowns, simultaneously transmits subliminal messages of farm husbandry throughout indo-china. This will cause the farmers of earth to glut the rice market, driving the price of my secret corn stockpiles through the roof. I’d guess we’ll net 20 million by next Tuesday.

Or maybe we could just go for beers and a movie or something...