Worst Dilemma Ever

That is hilarious, and @Shane, I wish I could top that comment.

For my part, I would sacrifice the Klondike bar on my altar of toothiness, and like the Borg, assimilate it.

I’d kill a neighborhood child since I don’t have any of my own. Then I’d eat the Klondike bar, go out and buy a new box of them, and bring it to the family of the child so they could enjoy the good news and give thanks that their child was a part of something so awesome and is now enjoying 40 fresh ice cream bars in the big freezer in the sky.

Sorry, god. I’m broke and my first born lives on the other side of the country.

First, I put the Klondike bar down the garbage disposal, to keep myself from eating it.

Next, I make an appointment with a psychiatrist, because ice cream sandwiches can’t talk.

I would go slay my firstborn son.

Then I would make up a lot of factual stories that verified my delusions.

I would then convince 1000’s of ignorant people that I needed lots of money to continue in the name of my Klondike.

I would proceed, with the money, and buy much real estate, creating an empire in which I would rule supreme!

Then I would gather some little boys.

Well, since I don’t have a son, or any children really, I’d eat the Klondike bar.

I would eat it, of course! I have heard many an ice cream treat speaking loudly, calling my name…..and besides, how would the act of eating a food that is thought to be “God” be any different than communion? See? I’d be upholding a long and honored tradition.

Oh, and I’m afraid my firstborn son is way bigger and stronger than I am. Not much chance of me slaying him, not that I would try.

I’d kill the kid. It wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve done for a klondike bar.

I’d offer up his father instead. 😛

I had to google Klondike bar too. They look disgusting. No way would I obey anything as sickly sweet looking as that….of course there’s still the mysteruy of how it got in my freezer.

Call a babysitter, and then go jump in the harbor and drown myself. I’ve seen schizophrenia in action, I would not want to live that way.

Mr. Klondike bar, may I introduce you to Mr. Microwave.

I don’t know, but that is effing hilarious.

I wouldn’t eat the Klondike bar, because that would be taking the Voice into me. Instead, I’d give it to my firstborn to eat, who’d say, “Gee thanks, Dad!” Being eaten by its intended victim, the Voice would be destroyed and my psychotic process would be canceled out.

Then I’d go get some Haagen Dazs and stop fooling around with the cheap stuff.

I’d be shocked to find a Klondike bar in my freezer because they don’t sell them in Australia and it would have had to appear by supernatural means.
Or I was hallucinating worse than the others in this thread and need even more help.
Either way, I never listen to instructions from dairy products.

Stupid Klondike bar. Doesn’t it know that most good athiests have already eaten all the available babies/offspring? It is showing a dreadful lack of omniscience, so… it must be of the devil. Devil’s food… chocolate. Better than babies! I say eat the bar.

A Klondike bar in your freezer begins talking to you, claiming to be the voice of God. It instructs you to slay your firstborn son. What would you do-o-o?

It’s not really a big deal. This always happens when I forget to take my meds. I simply take one pill immediately, and then resume my normal schedule.

Just ask yourself: WWJDFAKB?