I am not a gorp thief. Ahren or Matt might tell you otherwise, but they would be liars. I am an innocent lass with a golden heart full of good intentions. Don't believe their slanderous accusations for a minute!
Here's how it all really happened. It was back when Ahren and I were still roommates. I had never been to Mount Rainier before, and so Matt and Heather invited us to come hike it with them one summer Saturday. Ahren and I prepared our gorp the night before. Ahren filled his Ziploc bag with Skittles (Skittles!), Cheerios, and something else... maybe Chex? Chocolate Chips? Whatever, the point is... NO NUTS! (Ahren has a nut allergy.) And I filled my bag with M&M's (which really DO look like Skittles at a glance), cashews, almonds, walnuts, pretzels, Cheerios, Chex, crutons, barbecue potato chips, and Corn Nuts. (I could DEFINITELY make millions if I started my own gorp business.)
Saturday morning we woke up at 6AM and grunted at each other sleepily as we packed our backpacks. I PERSONALLY put MY gorp in MY backpack. Despite my blurry, spectacle-less 6AM eyes, I knew which bag of gorp was mine. I could tell by the M&M's. I then ate a hearty breakfast alone (Ahren didn't believe in food before eleven), and then we were on our way in Matt and Heather's car. Half an hour later, I was starving. I took out my bag of gorp and began eating it daintily, jaws unhinged like Garfield's, fists full of as much gorp as I could possibly scoop up in each grab. Ahren looked at me in what I can definitely say was disgust. (Maybe a Cheerio was stuck on my nose? Maybe he thought I should chew with my mouth closed? Such an aristocrat, that Ahren!) "Aren't you even going to wait until we get to the mountain?" he asked with disdain. I started to retort with something witty, but then his eyes bulged out with horror. "Hey, that's MY gorp!" he wailed.
I stopped chewing, a crescent of broken Cheerio hanging off my lip. I looked at the crumbs on my pants and the disheveled Ziploc bag in my hands. Two orange Skittles and one chocolate chip were the last sad vestiges of what had once been, I guiltily admit, Ahren's gorp. "Uh..." I stammered, feeling like an ugly, gluttonous hippopotamus. "How could you eat MY gorp?!?!?!" Ahren squealed.
You can imagine how I suffered the rest of the day, Ahren stomping behind me up the mountain, quipping, "Didn't you detect a SLIGHT lack of Cool Ranch flavor Corn Nuts in that bag?" Then there was Matt piping in with, "Hey, where's Ahren's gorp? Oh yeah, that's right, you ATE it all!" Heather was the only gracious one of the bunch, the only one with any manners at all, I tell you. I like that Heather. She's a good one, she is. Matt and Ahren ought to learn from her.
Now I'm sure any fair, intelligent observor will CLEARLY see what occurred here. It is OBVIOUS that Ahren is the real criminal in this case. Anyone who knows him at all will see without a doubt that on that fateful morning, before Matt and Heather picked us up, Ahren tiptoed over to our backpacks as I was enjoying my breakfast. He took advantage of my gastronomical distraction and swapped our gorp bags, all as a dirty prank to malign my reputation. He framed me, I tell you. He WANTED me to eat his gorp, all so he could be the martyr of the situation. He wanted to climb that mountain with an aching noble hunger in his belly so that someday some biographer could write heroic tales about him. But his ploy hasn't fooled me. I'm onto him. That Ahren's not so innocent as he lets on...