Sarah: Yarrr! We be sailing up the dark canyon!
And given how low her dress is, there should be nipples. But there are none, and I am unable to stop myself from looking to see if I can find them. Where are they?
Candy: Le buttsecks in a field amidst stampeding horses—now there’s a situation ripe for the Darwin Awards. But then these two don’t look like the sturdiest pastry cutters in the baking drawer, know what I mean?
Sarah: Her – I cannot kiss you! Your mullet, it is huge! Your big beefy arm is growing out of your neck! You are anatomically incorrect, and I fear for what lies in your trousers!
Him – But you came to work wearing a bedsheet. Surely this is an invitation?
Candy: I do declare that this dude’s haircut is supremely scandalous—as is his massively overdeveloped tricep, and the way he seems intent on chewing off the woman’s nose, even as she pushes ineffectively at him.
Sarah: Don’t you just love the subtle positioning of the “O?” And the not-so-subtle gay-video pose? If he opens his mouth, does an anamatronic voice say, “I got ya O right here, babe!”
Candy: Dude, a five o’clock shadow in your armpit is not sexy.
Sarah: Ok, this cover has crossed the border of Sexy, traversed the long valley of Camp and come to rest in the heart of Creepy. He looks sleazy and mean, his abs look like they were sculpted out of corduroy, and that hand? Is it…wiping his crotch?! EW!
Candy: It seemed like a good idea at the time. Create a humanoid using the genes Tom Hanks and Ben Affleck and hire him out to do sleazy porn, right? What could possibly go wrong?
And then the killings began.