Hang gliding in the nude, Frank mused, was

Hang gliding in the nude, Frank mused, was fine in theory. But in practice it was downright chilly and the wind created an extremely uncomfortable sensation in his

chromosome cannon. Worse yet, Frank wasn't wearing a hang-gliding helmet. A mountie on a pegasus presented Frank with a ticket. Cherubs made sky nudity acceptable, but helmetless

cyclists had a habit of getting teabagged by the swooping angelic hordes. At least the cherubs weren't really kids--that was just pronatalist propaganda. The flying mounted police

and tea-bagging cherubs were new to Candi and her biking buds, so when she saw them swooping down, she cried, "Flying Foals of the Yard! I've never seen such a sight!" Just then,

Hades popped out from the ground. "Can you not," he said flatly, looking at the cherubs. "And you. Come with me." With that, he pulled Candi down to the underworld, and she

Mr. Goodbar, Candi's old boyfriend, was there waiting for her. He was the only one who had the nuts to stand up to Hades, who was unaware of their previous relationship. With a

Sugar Daddy, Candi would have 100 Grand. She had shouted, "Oh Henry,!" a thousand times but it meant ZERO. You see, she had Mounds of PayDays but never a real

Mars Bar, the candy bar of war. She dreamed of legions of soldiers ravaging her with milk chocolate, creamy caramel, and the mysterious filling referred to as "nougat". Eventually,

she felt a galactic ripple and experienced almond joy. Nine months later she paid the price, giving birth to Baby Ruth, Rolo, several junior mints and a Whatchamacalit.