aggie loss, my gain

It was an extremely tension filled moment. One might say agonizing. The Aggies were playing Kansas State University at Kyle Field with 78,000 fans packed in. We were down 20 points, late in the 3rd quarter. The spectators sitting next to us, a white haired man and his young granddaughter, had already left in disgust, leaving behind a half eaten bag of M&M Peanuts. Or so we thought. I moved my seat over, giving us remaining fans more room.

SAM and I had come to the game armed only with our water bottles, determined not to spend a small fortune on overpriced stadium refreshments. No snacks for us. No sireebob.

I had moved my seat over, in order to make more room for the fans on the other side of us. This is when I spied the abandoned M&Ms.They proved too much of a temptation, this perfect compromise to our "no snack" rule. On impulse, I went for the quarterback sneak. I leaned over like I was picking up my water bottle. But no, I scooped up the remaining M&Ms instead.

SAM and I laughed. Look at us. Two dumpster divers chomping away on a small child's throwaways. Unlike the Fighting Texas Aggies, we had no pride. We polished off that bag in no time.

Early in the 4th quarter, to my great vexation, the grandpa and his unsuspecting granddaughter returned. Oh no, I thought. Where is the empty bag? Where is the evidence of my thievery? What will I do if she asks, "Papaw, where's my candy?!" And the fact that I had moved my seat over. I was the likely perpetrator. The old man will know.

And then I remembered. M&Ms melt in your mouth, not in your hand.

I signaled my husband into conspiratorial silence.

The little girl started to look under her seat. Grandpa began looking under his seat, too. And mine.

I thought I heard the man mention the Aggie program. Which was under SAM's seat. We handed it over, apologizing for having usurped the program in his absence. Looks of mock honesty on our faces. Hoping this was, indeed, what they were searching for.

But no. Grandpa offered to let us have the program. "I've got another one."

"Thanks" we both said in unison, a little too enthusiastically for the size of the gesture, our anxiety returning over the fate of the missing bag of candy.

The best defense is a good offense, I decided. Divert their attention back to the game. SAM and I shouted out encouragement to the Ags. DEFENSE, AGGIES!!! HOLD 'EM!!!

But my peripheral vision, growing ever more acute, was eyeing the small child as she haphazardly rooted under the seats.

The Wildcats were about to score. Grandpa pacified her restlessness, "We'll leave after Kansas scores this touchdown."

Score, I thought. Score and get it over with.

And score they did. Putting the Aggies deeper into their hole.

But I was relieved. Piece of shit fan that I was. Piece of shit human being who steals candy from a baby.

I watched Grandpa and the little girl exit the aisle. For good this time. I was spared.

The Aggies lost 44-30. But who cares. My dastardly deed went undiscovered.

She didn't need the rest of those M&Ms anyway. Bad for her teeth. Right?