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Kelly was off to Palm Springs. Yipee! He grinned a big t eethy grin and wiped off his greasy lips with a towel. Then came the gell and the Raybans. He snapped his fingers and the conv ertible roared up on its own. He was too cool for cool. He was the coolest. The car, a big yellow Ford had fins the size of a St. Bernard. With a hot babe under each arm he drove off, but their kicking, biting, and sizzling flesh did, eventually, get to him. So he con tracted a hit man to get rid of them all. He would do it himself but when they batted those 0.700s and 0.650s he just couldn't. Those babes were real babe ruths. The hitman on the other hand was ruthless. He peeled back the wrappers and took a big bite out of each of them and then laid back and savored the sweet chocolaty goodness and crunchy peanuts. He cocked his pistol, lipped his toothpick to the other side of his mouth, and asked "Any more candy for a naughty boy?" But Kelly was long gone. Babeless and fancy free he screamed little ditties into the wind.
