While they listened to the dulcet strains of Wayne Newton and quaffed vintage champagne, the young couple cuddled in the hot tub as bubbles nibbled at their shoulders like a peckish Pomeranian. Soon Tiffany and Shane grew lethargic and groggy, and as Shane drew a final, sweet drag from his cigarette, an errant breeze hijacked a glowing ember, only to release it into the slumbering Tiffany's flowing mane,and catching it ablaze. But Shane, besotted and inherently doltish, could muster no plan of rescue until he heard Wayne Newton intone, "Dunk her, Shane."

That was so frigging bad that it was actually funny.

Hey, mousegun.....

You are under arrest. Come out with your hands up.