Is that a Turkey Baster in Your Pocket, or do you Just Use Generic Viagra?

And now, Generic Viagra enthusiasts, the thrilling finale to my All-American Thanksgiving Viagra saga, in which I take revenge on my evil mother-in-law, with the public humiliation she so deserved, after scoffing at my supposed lack of manhood the year before, at the last Thanksgiving. There, in my own home, she had made a mockery of my hospitality and good will when her daughter had broken down weeping the moment she took out the turkey baster. That's right, this was before I'd ordered some Generic Viagra and cured my erectile dysfunction problem. My mother-in-law watched my wife, weeping, and immediately concluded that I wasn't treating her right. It came out right there, in front of everyone, that I hadn't been making her feel like a woman for months on end, and that she didn't have a single orgasm to be thankful for. She'd been begging me to order some Generic Viagra, but I'd kept refusing, certain that if I worked out enough or went jogging or drank herbal tea, that things would look up. What a bunch of bull. The fact is that erectile dysfunction is a medical disorder, with many different causes. You aren't going to cure it by thinking happy sexy thoughts. You've got to get serious and inject some Generic Viagra power into that puny, flaccid, wasting piece of man-meat between your legs. Well, after last Thanksgiving's debacle, that's exactly what I did, and my wife had been feeling the difference all year long. This year, she was ready to give thanks for the bounteous Horn of Plenty I'd been pounding her with all year. And I was determined to let her dear mother know just what a happy couple Generic Viagra had made the two of us.

When my wife got out the turkey baster this time around, with the entire family around, my mother-in-law, remembering well what happened last year, stood with a concerned hand on my wife's shoulder, as if to help her in this traumatic moment. Little did she know that I'd been giving it to my wife with the help of Generic Viagra. I decided to tell her as much with a little pantomime demonstration. I snatched the turkey baster from my wife, held it up to my crotch, as if it were my fuming, volcanic manhood-and sprayed my juice all over my wife. I threw down the turkey baster and said proudly to my mother in law: "That's right, Margaret! That's what I've been doing to your little girl every other night for the past year!" (I didn't mention Generic Viagra's help, of course!) "Sex! I've been sexing her up like nobody's business! Hard and rough! You like that?! When was the last time old Herbert there gave it to you like that? Isn't it about time someone put a smile on your face, dear? You want me to baste you too, the way I've been basting your daughter?" And I sprayed the rest of my turkey juice onto her ridiculous dress. "It'll come out in the wash," I said. "It's biodegradable!"

Wow, Generic Viagra had given me more courage than I'd ever had. I had confronted the great beast. She said, "Well, I never in my life!" I retorted, "Well, you did at least once-after all, you squirted out my wife! But, welcome to the new millennium, Margaret-sex isn't just for reproduction! It can make you feel good, too!" She stormed out, pulling the hen-pecked Herbert behind her, saying, "I never, I never," over and over again. And you know what? My wife was laughing her head off! Generic Viagra had sure turned the tables! Completely changed the family dynamics! I was victorious!