I can't muster anything resembling a coherent progression of thoughts. Instead, here are some snippets from my mental trash heap, covered in wet coffee grounds:

I had a daydream about an old nonexistent Sonny and Cher episode. A duet in progress...

Sonny

You're the balloon and I am the basket [the bulbous dark gray microphone looks enormous in his hand, suggesting a child who sadly chose the wrong ice cream flavor—Cigarette Ash]

Cher

I'm the headstone and you are the casket [tosses hair and licks her front teeth, dressed like a tabletop Christmas tree at Bob Mackie's pied-à-terre]

Several huge shimmering circles part on the stage to reveal a courtroom set. Cut to skit...

Prosecutor

Take this Anatomical Child Witness Doll, Tommy, and show the jury where the defendant touched you.

Tommy

[looks at the doll quizzically, turning it over in his tiny hand] There's no arcade on this doll.

Uproarious canned laughter

Elements of a gay personals ad I want to post sometime:

I'm great in the sack, although please note that a sack made of rough material chafes, and I need air holes to breathe in there. HUGE MUSHROOM HEAD, which is why I wear a hat so much. It makes me self-conscious.