This probative question is often seen attributed to The Burger King, whose immobile face issues forth this query into the hearts of his victims. To illustrate:
You may be at home, sitting peacefully on your porch, feeling a bit peckish, enjoying the sunny summer afternoon when out of the corner of your eye a shadow appears across your lawn. A figure stands in the distance, still as a tombstone, staring forward at you from a hundred meters away. This is startling and you rise from your seat, setting aside your cross-stitch. The binoculars, on the table, you grab for them, your eyes shifting to the papers and ficus next to the dual spy-glass. Looking back...the figure is closer, 30 meters closer, how could it move that fast? You can see it now, him, now that he's past the trees and shrubs. He's tall, wearing a red coat with gold trim, white ruffles and fur. He stands stock still, hands unseen, behind his back? You see the glimmer of dull gold on his head, his grossly proportioned head.
You raise the binoculars to look at him, obscuring him for a moment as you bring them before your eyes, you get a glimpse of him them. He's much closer now, only 40 meters away, still as a statue. His face is an inhuman grin, frozen in time. Bright and cheerful, but dead to the world. His mouth and eyes are twisted into a single everlasting laugh, as jovial as it is sinister. You see something on his head, a crown, made of paper, something is written on it. As you adjust the binocs your hand jogs, suddenly... he's in front of the screen, you can see the plastic shine of his face, the black abyss beneath his grotesque overbite. On his false crown it says: Burger King. Burger King? The fast food place? What?? You lower the binoculars, covering your eyes for an instant...and he's gone. He's not in the yard, you cast your eyes about. What in the world is going on?
You have to get inside, talk to someone, the police, your brother, a psychiatrist, someone. You need to see someone human to make sure that you are not out of your mind. You hurry to the door, checking over your shoulder as make your way inside. As your eyes adjust to the light and you walk down the hall you see something out of place, but you aren't sure what. You turn the corner to the kitchen, hell, at this point you'd settle for a sandwich, not just your sanity.
And you almost walk into him, he looms in front of you, frozen in the same pose, malignantly standing within your home. You know you can't escape. You stare into his bright and shiny dead eyes. His glare pierces your heart.
"..."
He then hands you a sandwich.