Okay, Smurfette (above) is the only adult female smurf.
And there's what, maybe three...four hundred thousand male Smurfs?
What's THAT tell you? All of these friggin' Smurfs show up at the front door of her Smurf shack with that sheepish look on their face..."Hi, Smurfette, I baked you a Smurfberry pie"...meanwhile, you look in the corner of her shack and there's what, maybe two...three hundred friggin' pies? All stacked up in the corner, the older ones starting to grow green fur. How many pies can one adult Smurf eat before she says "let's back off on the pies for a month or two?"
What does that say about Smurfette if she'd give it up for a friggin' PIE? If that were a truism in the real world every male chauvinist assbite I know would be walkin' around with a friggin' Marie Callendars GOLD CARD. To hell with weekend getaways to bed and breakfasts and dinners in four star restaurants and jewelry and all the rest, just wrap up that coconut cream custard to go...STAT!
And she PLAYS them, too. EVERY one of those little bastards is just a pawn in a much, much bigger game. She KNOWS they're all a bunch of growth-stunted, hormone-addled, repressed-rage tree dwellers who want one thing, and one thing only. And she's GOT it. And what does she do? She keeps takin' those pies. I don't know what's worse, the PIES or the LIES.
And one more thing...if these little bastards are blue all over, can they actually GET "blue balls?" I mean, SOMETHING has to happen to them if they're standin' in a line THAT long.
I want answers, and I want them NOW. Screw the Rumsfeld business, this is IMPORTANT.