You don't even want to know what I'd do for a Klondike bar.
I can understand if it was a Pepperoni Pizza Hot Pocket. Those are definitely stab-worthy.
I would stab my brother to NOT have to eat a fucking hot pocket. Ugh.
@2, I've done horrible things for Klondike bars. Frankly, I probably should go to rehab so I don't end up another fat Midwesterner.
Hot Pockets...pretty much diarrhea wrapped up in a flaky crust.
This reminds me of Jim Gaffigan, which is never a bad thing.
If his brother didn't stab him for the Hot Pocket, he'd just be bleeding out his ass later.
The distance between the Cain and Abel legend and this is a good example of the dynamic that drives Christianity. It's not a desire for righteousness. It's a longing for significant drama. The relevant decadence isn't that of the slide from morality into relativism. It's the fall from killing one's brother over Yahweh's refusal of his animal sacrifice to stabbing one's brother over an industriall produced savory pastry.
Hey, wow; I grew up in South Bend. This makes me feel kind of nostalgic.
I'm from that area too. Though I never stabbed a family member over a hot pocket. Maybe a bagel bite or a corn dog, but not a hot pocket. Since leaving the midwest however, I have discovered that midwesterners are idiots.
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