A Twinkie shortage is tearing our country apart. This is something we've gone through before when a giant frog scaled our snack skyscraper, when Captain Marvel used all our reserve Twinkies to stop a giant hole from being exploded in our ocean, or the time ocean moron Aquaman buried our Twinkies at the bottom of the ocean to trick three SCUBA divers. This time however, we're not reading about a Twinkie-less tragedy in a stack of Dazzler comic books I keep by the toilet, we're living it.

Before the authorities could be informed of the strike, they had already apprehended and strip searched The Penguin. While they did find several snacks in his body cavities, it wasn't enough for a conviction, and he's filed a wrongful prosecution lawsuit for an undisclosed amount. Thanks a lot, teamsters. First no cupcakes, now our civil servants are putting their hands in innocent asses. You guys are dicks.

All across the notheast united states [and soon... the WORLD], stores are running low on Hostess and Drake snacks, forcing children to replace the fruit pies and Yankee Doodles in their lunches with tasteless, poisonous insects. And although many groups have claimed responsibility including The Intergalactic Gold Eaters, Aunt Minerva, and "The Aliens", this shortage is caused by a group of disgruntled bakers in Philadelphia who shut down a factory with picketing.

The picketing started Monday, and no one knows exactly why it started. Teamsters only communicate in the form of cute, but firm, rhyming chants, so sometimes it's difficult to understand their demands. According to some interpreters, they want everything from more vacation time to longer cigarette breaks, while some individuals simply want someone to "suck it." For example, one disorganized man stopped his chanting to address the media with, "Hey, you pussies! You want your Twinkies? I got all the Twinkie you want right here! Suck it! SUUUUUCK IT!"

Some inside sources say the employees felt their creativity was stifled by the new cupcake frosting machine. "It was like they weren't listening to my input," said one worker responsible for making sure each cardboard shipping box was facing the proper direction. Holding one finger to his nostril and blowing snot from the other onto his forearm, he added, "There I was, dipping my penis into the cupcake dough, and it hit me. Is this my life? Sneaking the taste of myself into children's snacks? I knew then something had to be done." When he was reasonably sure no one could see him, he casually licked his forearm, pausing a moment to savor his nose's salty expulsion.

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