I’m pitching the idea to Comedy Central of developing a series in which a large “round clam” in Long Island sound, a quahog, sneaks ashore to lead a double-life as a virile human man. Unlike The Shadow of old radio fame who was able to “cloud men’s minds,” this clam clouds women’s minds. Well! You can imagine what happens next.
This quahog becomes an “exotic dancer,” an instant internet sensation from a YouTube video that goes intergalactic. And all these normally staid women, driven to madness by their jobs and their home lives, band together and tell their beer-drinking husbands to screw off because “we’re going out to see Sam The Clam,” and so forth.
What’s the funny part? It’s that while Virile Sam is doing his thing out there in the world of exotic dancing, the men all can see that he’s a total clam, and keep telling the women so, but the women’s minds are “clouded,” and there is almost universal agreement among them that Sam is the sexiest thing they've ever laid eyes on.
The storyline veers toward the mildly gross when a gal named Vivian falls in love with Sam, and he with her; Vivian’s overbearing father goes ballistic, saying things like “My God, Vivian! Can’t you see that he’s a complete clam!”
“Maybe so!” she retorts. “But’s he my clam.”
She runs off with Sam, and eventually Sam asks her to marry him. This is when he is forced tearfully to break the news to her that he’s not this hot prince with retirement benefits, but an actual clam. He tells her this in bed one night and makes the fateful decision to uncloud her mind. She looks at him closely, her eyes growing ever wider: “Oh my God!” she says. “You are a clam! Ew!!!”
Aaaaaand cut to commercial!