Premeditated Misdemeanor

I am fortunate enough to have two friends with golf connections in the greater Phoenix area. Thus, most Saturday afternoons consist of slices, hooks, and chunks. Golf, as has been said, is a gentleman's game. Last Saturday, I prepared myself for a round at TPC Scottsdale, a professional level course, home of the Waste Management Open. I dressed myself in plaid, bid my roommate adieu, and dashed out the door.

My tee time was approaching quickly, and I was beginning to worry if I would make it in time. I made my foot heavy and sped away. In my haste, I left my water bottle behind. As much as I enjoy golf and many other glorious things in this life, there is one thing, whether I enjoy it or not, that is a permanent part of me -- saving money. Maybe more appropriately stated, cheap runs in my blood. At such a golf course as this, little to nothing is free. So ... I turned back for my water. 

My garage door slowly opened. I quickly parked my car and ran inside to fetch my water. As I made my way passed the living room, I noticed my roommate quickly shuffling things around in my peripheral vision. I stopped and looked at him. His face was normal, but his eyes were hiding something. 

"What's up, man?" he said.

"Not much. Just forgot my water," I replied. We stared at each other for another few seconds, and he finally spoke up.

"I'm eating your chips," he said. 

I then noticed a bag of Salsa Verde Doritos partially hidden behind the couch. He also opened his clenched fist to reveal a purple chip clip. His plan was didactic. He knew exactly when I would be leaving ... but never did he plan for my untimely return. I caught him purple-handed. However, I was not upset. I could only smile and say, "Have as many as you like. Next time just tell me you want some."

His response was something like, "Thanks, but I prefer to eat in secret."