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 said, "Look you little Reece's 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.