tomoatmeal:

My wife, Diane told me that Barb’s husband, Denny had left a trail of Hershey’s kisses from the front door of his house to the bedroom.

“So it was a nice little surprise when Barb got home from work,” said Diane.

“Sounds insane,” I said.  “She’s lucky to be alive.”

“Well I thought it was romantic.”

I sighed and continued rubbing my temples.  My head hurt.  I imagined crushing Tylenol, sawing open the top part of my skull and then sprinkling the Tylenol directly onto my brain.  

“What was at the end of the trail?”

“Well, Denny was, probably.”

“Like a chocolate mold of Denny?”

“No, probably just real Denny,” said Diane.  She sounded tired.

“Seems like it should have been a big, Denny-sized chocolate bar.  Otherwise, why all of the fuss with the little candies?  The correlation is puzzling.”

“I don’t know.”

As my wife ate breakfast, I thought about chocolates and decided that I hated Hershey’s kisses.  They were a trick to get people to pay for foil instead of actual chocolate.

“Do you know what I hate, Diane?”

“I’d rather not hear.”

“I hate Hershey’s kisses.  I think they are a trick to get people to pay for foil instead of actual chocolate.”

THE END.