What would you do for a Klondike bar?

Would you quack like a duck?

Quack! Quack!

Would you stand outside your front door in your underwear until someone saw you?

I won’t even go swimming without my shirt on so … no.

Um, no.

I don’t get those commercials. Klondike bars are tasty, yes, but they aren’t that expensive. I wouldn’t humiliate myself for a $1.50 ice cream bar. Pretty much the only thing I’d do for one is walk down to the corner store and buy one.

Would you kill a guy?

You get half now and half when the job is done …

Wo… Would you… Would you kill a man?
Um… uh, well…
Bam Ahhhh!!

I think the more important question is “What Would Jesus Do for a Klondike Bar?”

Would he…walk on water?

Would he…touch a leper?

Would he…raise a guy from the dead?

Hmm… Despite being in a large open room with concrete walls, that didn’t echo…

AND NO ONE KNOWS WHY!!!

I’d kill whoever made up the “a duck’s quack doesn’t echo” “fact”.

Now that I think about it, I’d do that for a lot less than a Klondike bar.

I would question my sexual identity for one of those tastey treats!

I once worked in a freezer warehouse for a case of Klondike bars.

Well, not quite. I worked in a freezer warehouse one summer. Normally we would work Noon to 8 PM, but this particular evening saw many more icecream orders that we needed to fill and we ended up finnishing them at about 2AM. The owner of the warehouse knew we had been busting our butts that night, so he said we could take home one case of whatever we wanted, so I went straight over to the Klondike bars. When I saw that a case had 24 packages, and that each package had 8 bars in it, I knew that I had hit paydirt!

We had Klondike bars last us the entire summer… and that was with me giving them away to friends as well.

So, what would I do for a Klondike bar? Work until 2 AM in a freezer warehouse. :slight_smile:

I’d kick Carrot Top in the sweet spot.

Hell, I’d do that for free. :smiley:

I’d walk a mile for a Camel and pick one up from the Good Humor man along the way if the mood struck me.

I think the more pertinent question here is, “What would you do for a Klondike bar that you wouldn’t do for a Kroger brand chocolate-coated ice cream bar?”.

To which my reply would be, “Not a whole hell of a lot, unless the price difference is less than fifty cents”.

Why would the Good Humor man have a Camel? Does it want a Klondike Bar?

*After undressing Cassandra, she pointed towards the kitchen, and immediately I knew what she wanted. Seductively unwrapping the Klondike bar, I paused several times to lick my fingertips, all the while evaluating the desire in her eyes.

Breaking the icy treat in half, I began to glide the creamy chocolate over her glistening body. The cold brought her flesh to attention in every way imaginable. She sucked in short, hungry breaths as the confection caressed her breasts, and I watched her frame stiffen as the cream drizzled across her thighs.

Entirely melted, I looked to her for instruction, and she smiled before mouthing the words, ‘Time for your dessert.’*

That’s what I’d do for a Klondike bar.

Oh my beloved ice cream bar…how I love to lick your creamy center! And your oh-so-nutty chocolate covering! You’re not like the others! You like the same things I do! Waxed paper! Boiled football leather! Dog breath!

We’re not hitchhiking anymore! We’re riding!

W.W.J.D.F.A.K.B.?