A King's Ransom.
I'm going to make this real simple, I want a banana Twinkie.
I want a banana Twinkie the way professional daredevils want to don white leather jumpsuits with the American flag emblazonned on them and jump over things on their dirtbikes.
The first hero who brings me a banana Twinkie -- or handy two-pack, or box of said torpedoes of delicious, cream-infused, sponge-caked joy -- gets two things:
1. A hug. Or a hearty pat on the pack. Maybe a soulful hand shake or exchange of "daps" as the street hoodlums say. Your choice.
And 2. My undying loyalty.
You might be saying, "Undying loyalty? What's the monetary value of that?" Or you might be thinking, "You know what I want to do? Buy Chas a present for being head and shoulders above the next most awesome person in the history of ever." Which is all well and good, but let's focus on the loyalty thing.
Say you get in a gang fight. Or a car chase with a squadron of ninjas on hang-gliders with sub-machine guns and crossbows. Who are you going to turn to when the zombies are gnawing on your leg and you need somebody to wrestle the shotgun away from the werewolf and blow your head off so you don't become one of the walking dead?
Me.
I'm your huckleberry.
That's what loyalty gets you.
I want a banana Twinkie. Somebody step to the plate.