Q: What candy is opposite of bad and few?

A: You mean Good & Plenty. I have lots of candy in my van, but I don't have Good & Plenty. I do have Acceptable & Abundant. It's a Canadian knock off. I have cases out it. Got it real cheap on eBay. Wholesalers are giving it away ever since the Canadian government ordered it off the shelves after a half dozen cases of child blindness. Still legal in America, though. Can I interest you in a bag?

No? You sure?

Okay, how about some Pricker Bush Kids? It's a regional candy, popular in New England for a few years in the late 70's until some parents group discovered it contained trace amounts of barbed wire - you know, just enough to give it some kick - then they freaked out and had it banned. That's parents for you. But it's still out there, and I've got most of it. Want to try some?

What about some Razor Apples? Don't worry, they don't contain actual razors, that's just a myth. But they do contain a powerful hallucinagin that makes you think you're a unicorn. A savage, bloodthirsty unicorn incapable of feeling pain. Razor Apples were pretty popular on the playground for a couple years, until those damn parents got involved again; now you have to go to Thailand to buy them.

Parents ruin everything. Take my business for example. I started Candy Van for a simple reason: to give young children rides in a cool van full of candy. Today's kids are too distrusting of strangers. I wanted to teach them that not all strangers who offer you candy are creepy pedophiles trying to lure you into their van for deviant sexual purposes and slash or murder. Some of us are kind people who love to put a smile on a child's face, a smile that only an illegal candy containing powerful narcotics can bring. You'd think parents would appreciate that, seeing their children happy. Guess again. They treated me like I was some kind of freak.

In hindsight, the ski mask may have been a mistake. But I didn't want to frighten the children with the horrible scars I received in prison.

Q: How thick is the ice of where the penguins live?

A: Now that I think about it, thick. Really thick. Probably six or seven feet.

In retrospect, we should have armed Lt. Ivers with more than a steak knife. He'll probably need a drill or something. Good thing we gave him that scuba tank with the extra capacity.

Why didn't we give him a scuba kit with extra capacity?

I swear we had one. What happened to it?

Now that you mention it, I vaguely remember losing it in a poker game, but thought that was a dream.  Oh, well, let's hope Ivers can hold his breath. I'm sure he can; Eskimos have the most amazing lung capacity.

Then which one is the Eskimo?

Well, then, we should probably recruit some Eskimos. Hard to expect me to wage a war on penguins without a single Eskimo under my command.

We aren't waging a war on penguins? Really? Then why did I send Lt. Ivers - oh, wait, I remember, that was the dream. Poker game, real. War on penguins, dream. I'm going to start writing these things down. Just as soon as I learn to write.

When you write the condolence letter to the family of Lt. Ivers, please don't mention the war on penguins. Or the poker game. Or all that money he loaned me. Or my drinking. Or my being dangerously unfit for command. Best keep it simple, something like:

                                Dear Widow,
                                I regret to inform you that your husband, Lt. Hamilton Ivers,
                                went mad and threatened to build a nuclear weapon, tunnel to
                                the center of the Earth and destroy the world. (Obviously he
                                also intended to create and build some sort of super tunneling
                                machine) We had choice but to drown him. You are welcome.

                                                                                                   Sincerely,
                                                                                                   America

Include a Best Buy gift card, and that autographed photo of Judge Judy we keep in the game room. I'm tired of her staring at me all day.

Now let's celebrate the life of Lt. Ivers in the only way I'll allow: a Russian Roulette tournament.