Sarah: Dear God. It’s like a checklist: open shirt? Check! Tucked into pants? Check! Ruffle? CHECK!
But what’s up with Ichabod Crane’s low-hanging saggy scrotum, there? I mean, is shirt-dude kneeling out of pity? The man is half-dead, and the half that’s dead is down his pants.
Candy: The dude on the left looks really, really bored. “Oh boy. Another blowjob from a blond twink with nipples harder than sapphires. Just another day at Gaywyck.”
Sarah: MY EYES! MY EYES! Jesus in a sidecar, what is this? Romance for the elephantitis-loves-mullet set? Wouldn’t you seek help if your nads swelled up to the size of cantaloupes?
I can’t even see the rest of the cover. All I see is “giant nutsack!”
Candy: Mr. Testicular Elephantitis bears a somewhat strong resemblance to a friend of mine. His FACE, people, I mean his FACE. So there’s a whole new level of “EEEGAAAH!” going on over here when I look at this cover.
And in addition to elephantitis, Aspen… I mean cover dude totally looks as if he has scoliosis as well. I mean, is it possible to curve your spine THAT MUCH and still remain upright? I (and other adherents to the laws of gravity) would love to know.
And yeah, what’s up with the mullet, man? I guess I should be grateful it’s not Jheri-curled into the bargain.
Sarah: Published in smaller markets as “Fag-Hag’s Lament,” this cover features Lila Fowler from Sweet Valley High, dressed in her Civil-War best, running towards the cliffs of despair as she realizes that Bruce Patman loves himself, and only himself, and since he’s been conveniently cloned, so much the better for both of them.
Candy: And I thought Boondock Saints fanfic was the only place where twincest runs rampant.
That there’s an actual term for this fetish makes me even sadder and scareder.
My question is: Why is the silly girl walking away? If it were me and I’d just been utterly shunned that way, I totally would’ve whipped out my camera (or my sketchbook, to be historically accurate) and had a good time watching the two boys getting it on while recording it for posterity.
Not to mention the excellent blackmail material this kind of thing would’ve afforded….
Sarah: “Gee, Chet, thanks to some poorly-developed computer graphics, your leg appears to be going directly through my ass.”
“Golly, Lesley, you’re right. And so nice of you to compare my leg to my… other leg! Seems the soccer field is the only thing that’s empty.”
Candy: Wow. Another mullet. Twincest, elephantitis and mullets.
*starts weeping*
What’s weird (besides the mind-bogglingly awful artwork in general) about this cover is, everything on these two figures is hugely overdeveloped… exept for one key area.
OH COME ON. I can’t be the only person who automatically looks THERE on these covers. And it just doesn’t seem as if there’s anything THERE for the dark-haired dude.
