I got this note from a friend in High school.
New York, 1978.
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 Hundred Thousand 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 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's but
I said, "Hey Chicklet, no kinky stuff"-- and then
I said, "Look, you little Reese's Pieces! Don't be
a Zero, be a Lifesaver. Why don't you just take my
Whatchamacallit and slip it up your Bit O'Honey?"
(and oh, boy, 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 to her Good 'n' Plenty when,
all of a sudden ... my Starburst.
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.