Candy: Reproduction, the Rube Goldberg way! First, place the heroine on a long slide, legs spread at a specific angle, where a series of dildos diddle her as she slides down until she lands on a harness at the bottom. Then a series of ball bearings fall down a spiral slide, landing onto a scale, where the counterweight-triggered flame-thrower activates and burns away the rope that was holding a bowling ball, which then rockets down a precisely lubricated chute and thumps down behind a chicken, which is startled into laying an egg. This egg drops onto the handle of a precisely-balanced knife, causing it to cut through the string that was holding a catapult in place, wherein lies our Proud Hero with an Even Prouder Erection, and the catapult hurtles him through the air, whereupon he lands with near-surgical precision in the heroine’s hoo-hoo (which is, of course, Magical) and ejaculates.
See? Easy peasy.
(Credit to Lady Rhian for digging this cover up for us. Oh man.)
Sarah: Oh take a letter Maria
Here’s how babies get made.
I gotta use a dry-erase board,
Cause you’re a crappy lay.
You’re too dumb to use the laptop
and I can barely make a dent.
When we called it ‘family business,’
this isn’t what I meant.
And who is this bozo who labels a pacifier as a “luxury item?” Yeah, if you count a few moments of peace by soothing the baby a “luxury.”
Candy: I saw the 2004 remake of Dawn of the Dead on Sunday, and all I can think of when I see this cover is “I can smell your spicy brains.” Except I’m not sure who’s thinking that—the zombie cowboy, or the zombie baby.
Sarah: It takes three cowboys to make one baby? Like hell it does. Unless something is going on in Colorado that I don’t know about.
Candy: I’m not sure what’s more terrifying: the terrible frosted bangs on the cop, or the weird NAMBLA-Village People-fetishy air of the cover in general.
Sarah: The Badge, the Baby… the gay burlesque cover model, the impossibly small shortall and the scared looking toddler. Yeah, I’d be scared of that man, too. He looks manic and altogether far too attached to Sun-In and hair product. That baby is cute and pulling at my heart strings – but not in a “Oh, how romantic” kind of way. More in a “Kick that man in the nutsack, grab the baby and run” kind of way.