It was another Payday, and I was tired of being a Mr.
Goodbar. So I saw Miss Hershey standing behind the Powerhouse on the
corner of Clark and Fifth Avenue, and I whipped out my Whopper and
whispered, “Hey Sweetart, how’d you like to Krunch on my Big Hunk for a
Million Dollar Bar?”
Well, she immediately went down on my Tootsie Roll, and,
Uno, it was like pure Almond Joy. I couldn’t help but grab her
delicious Mounds ’cause it was easy to see that this little Twix had
the Red Hots. It was all I could do to hold back a Snicker and a
Krackle as my Butterfinger went up her tight little Kit Kat and she
started to scream, “Oh Henry, Oh Henry!”
Soon she was fondling my Peter Paul and Zagnuts and I knew
it wouldn’t be long before I blew my Milkduds clear to Mars and gave
her a taste of the old Milky Way. She asked if I was into m&m, but I
said, “Hey Chiclet, no kinky stuff.” I then said, “Look you little
Reece Piece, don’t be a Zero, be a Lifesaver. Why don’t you just take
my Whatchamacallit and slip it up your Bit O’ Honey?” (What a piece of
Juicyfruit she was, too). She screamed, “Oh, Crackerjack, you’re
better than the Three Musketeers!” as I rammed my Ding Dong up her Rocky
Road and into her Peanut Butter Cup.
Well, I was givin’ it too her Good ‘n’ Plenty, when all of
a sudden…my Starburst.
Yeah, as luck would have it, she started to grow a bit
Chunky and complained of a Wrigley in her stomach. Sure enough, nine
months later, out popped……..a Baby Ruth.