Anti-Comedy 3

10,000 years ago off the coast of TurkeyTown there was a city made of snacks. in SnackCity there was a mayor. his name was Stromboli.  he had a wife Nilla made out Vanilla Wafers, a daughter Ding-Dong made of chocolate cake and vanilla creme, and a son Sun Chip. they lived in a house of Dunkaroos. everyday Stromboli drove his Snowball car to Peppermint Bark city hall, stamped Fruit Roll-Up bills, shat out chunks of Turkish Delight into the Jolly Rancher toilet plopping in the cleaning Koolaid, and conversed at length with all the Sour Patch Kid aldermen.

one day LicoriceMan, a political terrorist and self loathing homo-snackian, slipped a poisoned MilkDud into Stromboli's morning Cherry Shasta. upon arriving home for lunch Stromboli was possessed by an undeniable grumble down in his tumtum. he ate his wife, his daughter, his son, his house, his neighbors, their houses, his aldermen, his constituents, all their houses, the roads, buses and trains, the sidewalks, the parks, city buildings, everything until there was one big hole where SnackCity use to be that looked like a big puckered butthole. an hour later he threw it all up, after a while all that puke clotted became Hurl Huts forming VomitVillage. Stromboli was elected mayor.