In your grocer's freezer is an ice cream treat known as a Klondike bar. The national advertising campaign for this product features the tag line, "What would you do for a Klondike bar?" Their ads feature people doing the most ridiculous and embarrassing things just for the promise of a free treat.
Unseen announcer: Would you cluck like a chicken for a Klondike bar?
Person on the street: Probably.
Unseen announcer: Would you sing a medley of Manilow tunes on a crowded inner city subway car at 2:00 a.m. for a Klondike bar?
Person on the street: ♪ I write the songs that make the whole world sing ...! ♪
Unseen announcer: Would you chop off your arm above the elbow for a Klondike bar?
Person on the street: Dah, who wouldn't?
Unseen announcer: Would you run for public office for a Klondike bar?
Person on the street: Dude, I have my limits.
Anyway, I had a run-in with a Klondike bar the other evening and was able to answer the question, "What would I do for a Klondike bar?". It was kind of late at night and I was feeling a bit peckish. I searched the cupboard for a snackerel and didn't see anything that excited me. Cabinet? Ugh. Fridge? Bah. I opened the freezer and there sat a box of Klondike bars. It had already been opened earlier, but apparently in haste as the box was still mostly covered in its original plastic wrapping. Looking at the hungry polar bear on the wrappers I thought to myself, hmmmm. I guess I will have one of those. I reached into the freezer and made a swipe at one of the bars but was thwarted by the plastic wrap. I made a second attempt to reach my fingers into the packaging to grab my treat, but again came up empty. I then closed the freezer and walked away.
So, what would I do for a Klondike bar? Well, apparently not very much.