A humor column I wrote for San Diego State University's Daily Aztec newspaper... in a galaxy far, far away.

BACKPACK THEFT PAYS OFF DOWN THE ROAD

by Richard Graham

Last Thursday night (after an especially grueling History of British Literature class) I stopped in at Monty’s Den with Terry Shields, the ex-A.S. presidential candidate, and Terry Wells, a city editor for the Daily Aztec, in order to imbibe some of the fine atmosphere of Henry’s Place.

Unfortunately, the heady atmosphere must have been a little too intoxicating, for when I poured myself out the revolving doors of that fine establishment, I neglected to take my backpack with me. Upon returning to search for it the next day, I was surprised and distressed to find that Monty’s revolving doors had been changed to the hinged variety and that my backpack had not been turned in. After a week of fruitless visits to the campus police, Monty’s and the lost and found, I had given up all but a sliver of hope for its recovery.

Like a modern Sherlock Holmes, I have narrowed the list of possible suspects and have come up with a composite description of my backpack kleptomaniac. He (a true chauvinist, I can’t believe a woman would steal my belongings, except, perhaps, my heart) is short, eats carrots or other such vitamin-D-filled vegetables, and has impeccable taste in backpacks. I say he is short because my backpack was left on the floor and would have been difficult for a tall man to see to steal; eats carrots because even a short man would need excellent eyesight to pick out my green backpack in the darkness of Monty’s Den; and has impeccable taste in backpacks because, after all, it was my backpack.

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Sincerely,

Richard Graham