You bolt ahead, making like mad for the Great Gumdrop Mountains, where you know you’ll have an advantage. When suddenly, the path beneath you gives way, and you drop six or seven feet into a large hole. It’s gummy lined, so you’re not injured, but the fall knocks the wind out of you, and you jump up furiously in righteous indignation. The Genevia Convention forbids the use of punji stick style warfare, and you won’t have it here in Candyland, either. This is an outrage!
Looking up, you can see that’s exactly what’s about to happen too, as a candy-coated guard reaches down into the hole, grabbing your arm, more lifting than helping you out of the hole.
“Sorry about that!” He says, rather cheerfully for a war criminal, you think. “Those aren’t for you. They’re for those fuggin' gummies.” “The bears? I just escaped from them. Are they dangerous?”
“Oh, definitely. They're practically vermin here in Candyland. They refuse to serve the King, and they make all kinds of trouble, so we have these gummy traps set up along the castle parameter. Won’t keep you or I down long, but to a gummy, that stuff at the bottom is soft enough to trap them, and then I’ll come along, and jolt ‘em with this.” He pats what seems to be a large stun gun strapped to his thigh. “Just a little juice from this baby, and the whole fucking thing will liquify, and then, they become part of the trap for the next one. Little by little, it’s ‘bye, bye, bears.’” He grins, pleased with himself in a way that only cops and those assholes that steal cash from your wallet after a one-night-stand can be.
“Isn’t that unethical? I heard one of the bears speak. Surely, they can be reasoned with?”
“Oh, you can’t reason with a gummy! You can see they got no brain! It’s better to just liquify ‘em, plus, it’s fun to watch ‘em go from jelly to sludge. Where’d you say you saw those bears?”