I killed my wife and unborn child because a man told me I could have a Klondike bar if I did. I didn't want to, but I was unable to stop myself. It was if my body acted of its own accord, and while my mind screamed against it, it was powerless to stop the horrific act of violence, murder. I ran the blade through her neck swiftly, blood exploding out of her throat onto my face, chest. Hot. I sat, weeping, over the corpses of my future, my happiness, and the Klondike Bar was handed to me. It was worth it. -blam!-ing double chocolate holy shit am I in heaven? Gimme more dat shit sweet padre have mercy it should be illegal to taste this good.