BUTTERFINGER® Bar Insurance

I'd finally eaten through my lunch until only my Butterfinger remained. The lingering taste of bologna sandwich and cold brussel sprouts remained, and I looked forward to clearing my palate with the crunchy sweet taste of my king sized Butterfinger. As I reached for it, my cell phone rang. The lunchroom had a way of blocking signals, so I walked to a window for better reception. "Hello?", I said. Muffled giggles then "click". Strange. Returning to my lunch, I was shocked to find my butterfinger half eaten. Scanning the room, I vowed to find the culprit. Retrieved my phone and hit redial