My current desire: Two tattoos, one on each fist. On the right fist, Mister Roper. On the left fist, Mister Furley.

The result: Absolute Power! No adversary can withstand the combined forces of Mister Roper and Mister Furley.

First, I hit you with Mister Roper. WHAM! Lights out! The last thing you see before everything goes black is Mister Roper characteristically looking into the camera and laughing after having demonstrated his cruel sharp wit to the effect that he has no desire to sleep with his wife.

Second, if and only if you can withstand with awesome power of Mister Roper, second I hit you with Mister Furley. After that, nothing. You wake up days, weeks, months later in a second rate hotel with Joyce Dewitt, who appears to have passed out and is wearing a stewardess's outfit. Unable to determine whether this is an unconscious attempt to add excitement to your sex life or some kind of sick joke, you gather your few possessions and head out in search of the nearest all night Bingo hall. After hours of fruitless searching you finally find one, but it's filled with epileptics and men in grey suits with cabalistic markings on their faces. Suckling mattress springs and projecting whale movies from their dentures, they begin to revolve in a sort of obscene dance involving toaster ovens and abnormally large tree frogs which cling to their legs, arms and torsos. How could this have happened to me, you scream in vain before succumbing listlessly to their mindless display of unmitigated savagery.