The first two covers are courtesy of Louise, who hoped that we would “enjoy them.” Oh we did, Louise. The only way we could’ve enjoyed them more would’ve been if Fabio had showed up at our houses and given us Brazilian waxes.
Candy: First of all, the texture on the guy’s hair is kind of eerie. I keep thinking that if I stare at it long enough, I’ll see tortured, weeping faces in the swirling patterns, or something.
Second of all: Dude! No, I mean it—the woman’s a dude. Why do artists insist on using Willem Dafoe in drag as a model? Pondering this enigma is seriously sapping me of the will to live.
Sarah: This may be the first ever cover art where the chick’s boobs are appropriately sagging. NOTHING sags in RomanceLandia, didn’t you get the memo? Hell, historical heroines have smooth hairless legs.
And speaking of, her boobs may sag, but Fabio clearly just left her house after giving her an underarm wax.
Candy: The alien incubating in the guy’s right shoulderblade is getting ripe, and will pop out any day now. That’ll teach him to eat after midnight.
Sarah: Do you see the iddy biddy boner? It’s kind of like the camel on the cigarette pack only not nearly as subtle.
Candy: Holy crapmonkeys! I didn’t know Nightcrawler had a younger, gayer, creepier, more transparent younger brother.
Sarah: Did Rebecca Brandewyne dress up as that guy on the back of the cover? And if she did, was she in severe hypoxia at the time?
Because, man, there is nothing sexier than hypothermic love.
Candy: Behold the power of this woman’s exposed knees! Her legs are so amazing, the mere sight of them are capable of making falcons shit out fully-formed (if rather creepy-looking) men.
Sarah: Clearly this needs to be an entry in the Art of War: to flush out (har) your enemy, drop a magenta clad Ondine in to the bushes. Her ruffled allure will force your prey to get buck naked, and you’ll be able to spot him easily in the foliage by the glimmer of his white, white ass.