It would be a very short pint. It would be gummy bears and matzah, and be called Chewy Jewy.
I have candy all the time. I live on gummy bears and peach rings. They're like dried-up peaches, only dipped in sugar. You can get 'em at gas stations. They're like 99 cents for four bags. And cashews. I love cashews.
If these rich women from 5th Avenue spend a fortune on cashmere sweaters, they will come to my store to buy gummy bears.
A journalist also needs to be disciplined, and so do I. I am, essentially, lazy. Without discipline I'd be just a mass of gummy bears on the sofa instead of on book tour with my eighth novel.
Trash can!” Pritkin cursed and grabbed one, just about the time everything I’d eaten that night paid a repeat visit. Whiskey, pizza, milk shake, beer-and a lone, half-dissolved gummy bear, which was a surprise, since I couldn’t actually recall having eaten any. Fun times.
William untucked the covers and stood, making a mental list of everything he'd need for the coming trip. A few blades, serrated and non serrated. A vial of acid. A bone saw. A spiked paddle. A cat-o'-nine-tails. And a bag of Gummy Bears.
Strider: Red hots dude. He'd ruin anything for a mouthful of those. Now pull over. William: Gummy Bears. You should have said so.
Didn't we talk about this?" "HAIL!" "That isn't an answer." I planted my hands on my hips. "Was there a reason for shoving the gummy bears off the counter? Did they tell you they were suicidal? On second thought," I raised a hand, palm out, "don't answer that. If the candy is talking, I don't want to know.
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