Maude took Pete Weeny’s hand in marriage, only to throw him off a cliff on their honeymoon in order to cash in early on a jointure of the Weeny Stadium, where every Friday night Mindfreak Piss Angel hosts a hotdog cook-off dressed in drag as Estelle Getty.
My husband Cpt. Hasselhoff, idiot that he is, somehow turned all of my attempts to kill him into a polysemous miscommunication. When I coaxed him into eating those indigenous piranhas from the Hudson River and he regained consciousness after convulsively throwing up for 3 days, he laughed it off. When I threw chum into the water while he was scuba diving off the coast of Montauk, he claimed it was more fascinating to dive with Great White Sharks circling him, and since we didn’t want to bring that bucket of chum back to shore, I had no other option. Finally, when I told him outright that I wanted him dead so I could finally get my jointure (I’ve been trying to get my paws on his German estate, which was modeled after that patch of beach upon which he filmed most of Baywatch, for such a long time), he tussled my hair and cartwheeled down the lawn.
Renowned bounty hunter Peter Penis was a man of such status that when he married the lowly but opportunistic Donna Tits she nearly wet herself thinking of the jointure that would be hers once he was finally taken down on a job. In order to cash in more quickly she hired him to kill himself. Using his famed swashbuckling charm he coaxed himself to Weeny Stadium where he laced a paper cone of tater tots with poison and ate it in a cavalier manner, content with the fact that he had finally met his match.