After eating two pounds of stale Halloween candy I found under the backseat of my friend’s ’93 Geo Tracker I fell into a “little mini-coma,” as the kind doc at the free clinic put it. During those seventy-eight hours of sleepy sleepy fun-time, I met my power animal, conversed with Bill Hicks, and went on a horrifying trip to the candy plantations of Central Europe. My animal is the llama, Bill said Sam Kinison and himself will personally be driving Satan’s team of fire-breathing black stallions onto Earth if Russell Crowe does anything remotely resembling his work or life, and I was awoken from the deep slumber by the atrocities that I saw in Germany.

    What I saw makes Mississippi in the early 1800’s look like a day in Candy Land.  Gummy bears are the totalitarian rulers of a dark and perverse landscape. Their ranks of masochism are differentiated by color and flavor. The clear, pineapple, ones are the highest on the sticky poll. They enjoy sexually harassing the reds, raspberry, by biting large hunks of gummy flesh from their ass cheeks. Strawberries come in second on the cruelty chart because of their collective adverse reaction to a low self esteem. It seems that since they are green, they believe they are misunderstood by the rest of civilization. Therefore, they castigate the gummy worms with black licorice sticks.

    You see, the gummy worms are the labor and sexual slaves of the gummy subculture. They toil day and night through the fields of Sour Patch Kids and gummy cherry orchards aerating the soil for proper root development.  I don’t think that the sexual part is too hard to figure out; they are pretty phallic by nature. The worst part of being a gummy worm is when the Smurfs get drunk on gummy root beer and decide to go fishing for Swedish fish with them for bait. I had to turn away at this point and puke…Smurfs smell worse than the dumpster at the animal shelter.

    Before I left, the head of tourism took me to their version of a “donkey show.” I physically cannot stomach the thought any longer, so I will leave the details up to the imagination. Right after the show, I fortunately awoke in a bed with my friends smiling all around me.

    I had this horrible ringing in my ears for a day or so, but when I finally could hear my friends told me the candy was in a big orange bowl outside the neighborhood pedophile’s house last Halloween. They thought it was either doped or semen laced, so they being good Samaritans took it before the kiddies could get a hold of it. My heavy sleep confirmed the fact that they were filled with heroin, ecstasy, and barbiturates.  They said the black-light they smuggled in the clinic confirmed the latter suspicion. Boy were they pissed they never tried any.