Big Whizzy Cupid

"Oh no! It's Valentine's Day and I haven't got anything for my sweetie!" You say in a kind of shock associated with being hit over the head by the obvious.

"Don't worry yer purty little head," I say, affecting a southern drawl and intentionally not lookin' at your mouth. "Big Whizzy Cupid will be here any moment to solve yer problem!" I sits down on a stump and wait.

Just then, *POOF*!!! Big Whizzy Cupid appears in a cloud of smoke and mirrors.

"Heh. I'm here," says Big Whizzy Cupid, holding his shotgun and lookin' like he could've used another glass of metamucil this mornin'.

You approach him from behind and shyly ask, "Can you please help me Big Whizzy Cupid?"

"Huh? Grouse?!?" says Big Whizzy Cupid, whirlin' and firin'.

You go down like a sack o' Paris Hiltons' on a Greek playboy.

"See," I say. "I told ya he would solve yer problem. Now you don't need to get yer sweetie anything."

"Moe! Larry! The cheese!!" Shouts Big Whizzy Cupid.

I shove some Roquefort in the big angel's mouth and lead him away to the ambulance.

"Don't worry," I say "Karl will take care of everything. Don't forget to take your heart meds."