I read further.

Zig-Zag Magnum Bars provide a slow, 24-hour release of energy to give you incredible strength and endurance. Using a patented, secret formula, our energy bars are like no other on the market. Early testing has shown consumers of our product experience a 50% increase in muscle strength, sharper mental abilities and a decrease in sleep needs. In addition, our product has been proven to raise endurance levels beyond that of the finest Olympic athlete.

Beneath the introduction was a short description of test results. Three-quarters of the military subjects noticed ramped up physical capabilities within ten minutes of ingestion. The other 25% had sporadic results. The term 'sporadic' was not defined further.

I unwrapped a bar and took a bite. The taste was pleasant, chocolaty, maybe a hint of hazelnut or almond. As I chewed, I buried myself in reading.

Understand the product. Understand the consumer. Understand the market.

Once again, we were provided with a yellow legal pad and a pencil. I sketched out ideas for my sales pitch. I drew on my experiences over the last few years and tailored my approach. No longer did I have to hide the problems with chocolate bars--high calorie, high fat, etc. I was able to tout the incredible results of the preliminary testing and speak to the benefits for our military.

I took another bite. I wasn't interested in Mr. Universe results as depicted in the video. A few morsels should be enough to notice any improvements in my strength or physical abilities. Besides, without the FDA approval, I wanted to make sure I took it slowly.

So lost in the process, I didn't realize a change had occurred around me until Harold fell out of his seat and writhed on the floor.

I looked up from my notes.

Everyone else was oblivious. Although they'd finished eating the bars, they didn't move, didn't turn at the noise, they did nothing.

Harold's face turned purple. He grabbed at his throat as if he were choking.

I rushed to his aid.

"Can you hear me?" I asked. I'd heard that was something you were supposed to ask when someone was in medical distress. "Can you talk?"

I thought briefly about how to do the Heimlich Maneuver. Harold was flat on his back. I'd need to get him standing. But could he even stand?

Harold's eyes bulged out. The capillaries burst. Bright red threads of blood crisscrossed his eyeballs.

I sat back, unable to process what I was seeing. I had no medical training. Everything I knew came from TV shows and movies. I felt helpless. A man was dying in front of me, and I had no way to help.

His face turned ashen.

I ran to the red door and banged on it. "Help! We need help. Someone is choking." I rattled the doorknob. It was locked.