The Klondike Bar found out what I did for it, and now it's blackmailing me.

If a mass murderer on death row ordered a Klondike Bar for his last meal I bet it would explain a lot.

The hell with a Klondike Bar, ask me what I'd do for a box of Girl Scout Cookies.

I hope my wife and children never learn the things that I have done for a Klondike Bar.