It was another Payday and I was tired of Mr. Goodbar.
When I saw Miss Hershey standing behind the Powerhouse on the corner of Clark and Fifth Avenue, I whipped out my Whopper and whispered, “Hey, Sweetheart, how’d you like to Crunch on my Chunky for a Million Dollar Bar?”
She immediately went down on my Tootsie Roll, and it was like pure Almond Joy.
I couldn’t help but grab her delicious Mounds because it was easy to see that this little Twix had the Red Hots.
It was all I could do to hold the Snickers and Crackle as my Butterfinger went up her tight little Kit Kat and she started to scream, “Oh Henry, Oh Henry!”
Soon she was fondling my Mars and ZagNut, so it wouldn’t be long before I blew my Milk Duds clear to her Milky Way.
She asked me if I was into M&M, but I said, “Hey Chicklet, no kinky stuff.” I said, “Look you little Reese’s Pieces, don’t be a Zero, be a Lifesaver. Why don’t you take my Whatchamacallit and slip it up your Bit ‘O’ Honey?”
She was quite a piece of Juicy Fruit and screamed, “Oh Crackerjack, better than the Three Musketeers!” as I rammed my Ding Dong up her Rocky Road and into her Peanut Butter Cup.
I was giving it to her Good ‘N’ Plenty, when all the sudden — my Starburst.
As luck would have it, she soon complained of a Wrigley in her stomach.
Sure enough, nine months later, out popped Baby Ruth.
