Think you’ve experienced the decadent, rich taste of chocolate before? Think again, shitheads, because you haven’t let the new Black Mamba Delights from Magnum Ice Cream fuck a bucket of wonderful into your face yet. You didn’t seriously think we were going to stop with our signature “Iron Panther Fudge Supreme,” did you, dickhead? No, if we wanted to softball you, we would’ve started practicing our shortstop game a long-ass time ago. That was all just the dark, creamy ramp leading up to the high-octane Evel Knievel stunt of flavor in your tongue box that is the Black Mamba Delight. This is chocolate, bitches, and here you either go big or go to hell, and right now we’re as cold as your ex’s heart in a liquid nitrogen-filled fridge floating through the goddamn Boomerang Nebula.
Made from ingredients so fucking good Snapple had to change its slogan to “Made from some pretty good stuff on Earth, but nothing like the dick-chilling orgasm on a stick that is the Black Mamba Delight.” First, we start with coca leaves so rich Warren Buffet would bend over to spit shine their shoes if they even had feet, and not the thick mahogany stick needed to hold up the Mona Lisa of desserts, guaranteed to make any mouth shit its pants. The rest is a mystery so great that when the Hardy Boys saw it they got Crohn’s disease. What we do is we take the ingredients to the top of Mount Kangchenjunga and leave them there with a newborn baby for six days. When we return, a fresh batch of Black Mamba Delights is being held by a stark naked George Clooney. Sure, the new George Clooneys have to kill the others Highlander-style, but it’s worth it for chocolaty treats so mouthwatering that you patsies will die of dehydration just staring at it.
The only reason we’re telling you all this is because Black Mamba Delights are so mind-shatteringly delicious they give you Jim Carrey’s 24-hour truth curse from Liar Liar with every bite. Don’t believe us? Go fuck yourself, but do it with a Black Mamba Delight so that every time you sit down it’ll feel like a cloud giving you a rimmer. Still not convinced that this delicious auburn treat could change your life? Come down to 847 Cross Street, Santa Clara, CA, and I will fight you myself, asshole. Bring whatever weapon you want — I’ll use only a Black Mamba Delight so that when I watch the life leave your blasphemous little eyes, I’ll know that the last thing you’ll have tasted was the motherfucking Stone Cold Steve Austin of zest giving your taste buds an atomic wedgie so hard they spit Hanes boxer briefs. Just try me.
What, now you think you can handle the Black Mamba Delight? You think you’re able to take the most viscerally pleasurable dessert since Nikki Sixx filled a birthday cake with heroin? Save it for your diary, chocolate Icarus, because the Black Mamba Delight isn’t for the weak of heart, the young, the old, or anyone under 6’2″. This icy idol of widow-making chocolate caramel is so medically questionable, the only question on the MCAT’s this year is a box of these creamy killers and a question mark. If you think you’re getting out of this post-dinner tongue enlightening easy, you must have already eaten a box of Black Mamba Delights, because you’ve lost your goddamn mind.
So go on, buy a box. See if you’ve got what it takes to tame the Mao Zedong of the freezer section. See if your mouth can withstand this chilled typhoon of cocoa without looking like a Hershey bar Chernobyl. Buy Black Mamba Delights in stores today, or live in the desolate shadow of your own cowardice until the day the Black Mamba Delight finally drives you to your fucking grave.
