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Location: Clearwater, South Carolina, United States

Monday, August 22, 2005


How many Klondike Bars does it take to commit moral transgression - two, three, more? Could it be just one? This is possible, dependent on your true feelings about this delicious, delectable ice cream bar.

Where does Klondike lust begin? When you drool on the paper as you clip a coupon for this item? Could it be when you daydream about your freezer - especially the particular shelf where this delightful square of frozen dessert resides? Surely it's not when you are innocently pushing your grocery cart down the frozen food aisle and just accidentally catch a glimpse of this tempting container of fascination.

It's way too late when you have pushed aside the inner warnings and without conscience purchased this item of delectableness. Oh sure - you can say that this vixen of taste-dom has come into the household for visiting company only, but deep inside you know the truth!

Then the will slowly starts to erode and you go to the freezer under the pretext of looking for frozen butter beans with which to fashion a sandwich, but you can't hide the truth from yourself forever.

Then, because you don't want to be alone in your wanton consumption, you woo your unsuspecting spouse with - "Don't you want a Klondike Bar?" - knowing this is a weakness of hers as well. There I am, supposing to be the spiritual leader of the family, leading the one I love down the path of temptation.

Where will it end - when will it end - will it end - do I want it to end? Will I have to wrap the freezer in a sound deadening material so as not to hear the small alluring voice calling my name? Possibly I should replace this vamp in chocolate coating with something less guilt inducing - like rutabaga casserole or turnip green pudding - then again, maybe not.

Endeavoring now to answer my lead in question - which we all ultimately have to do - I feel if only one of these bars, two at most, is eaten in a fairly quick manner and an effort is made to not really enjoy them that much, it's probably OK.

The problem arises when an individual eats a Klondike Bar alone, taking small bites and slowly savoring the experience of the creamy, sweet, frozen milk product wrapped in a thin layer of milk chocolate. The two flavors then meet on the tongue in a crescendo of delight, sending tiny shivers through each itsy bitsy taste bud.

Yes - God forgives wrongdoing, even of the Klondike kind, but we are still stuck with the evidence of said action hanging over our belts. ec


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