Lunch Box Bandit

     Somebody has been stealing my lunch. Not the whole thing, mind you, but there have been definite and distinct bites taken daily from my meals. A tell-tale hole in the pasta, a mysterious inch missing from my soup container. You think I’m imagining it, don’t you? 

     At first I thought I was imagining it, too. I mean, who would go around taking sample portions from somebody else’s lunch box every day? Who is that strange and unhinged to do so? But no, it’s definitely been happening, and I plan to get to the bottom of it. 

     The same thing was happening with the quart of milk I’d bring in to use with my coffee. Every day, more and more would disappear and nobody else would offer to replenish. I left a note on the fridge saying “who wants to take turns bringing in milk or creamer for coffee?” with no response. I side-eyed the other known coffee aficionados in the place, looking for a “tell”. It could have been any of them. It could have been ALL of them! 

     So, I kept supplying the milk, my coworkers kept using it, til eventually I had enough. I had an idea! I went to the local Dollar Tree, and bought a few baby bottles. I filled them with regular milk, brought them to work, and placed them in the fridge. All of a sudden, the milk stopped disappearing. Problem solved. 

     But now my lunch! This would require more creative thinking to get to the bottom of it. I needed to outsmart The Lunch Box Bandit. I got to work brainstorming ideas on Post-It notes at my desk. 

Should I set up a camera in the break room? Should I leave a note simply asking the Bandit to stop? Should I do something more…drastic? 

Ideas spun through my mind, and I realized it was quitting time. I gathered my things, and began to leave my office. 

     “Hey, Frederick! Another day, another dollar, right?” my coworker shouted from behind me. I turned and slowed down for Patty to catch up. Patty talked to everybody, and there would be no outrunning her. She’s known to wear sneakers with every outfit, presumably for the sole purpose of chasing people down to chat them up. 

     “Yep. Time to go home and get ready to do it all again tomorrow! Say, Patty, have you noticed anything…unusual about your lunch lately?” I decided to probe. Maybe mine isn’t the only lunch being invaded daily. 

     “No, can’t say I have. Plain old PB&J everyday for me. And a bag of carrots that go along for the ride. I pretend I’ll eat them every day, and then they just travel back home again. Why do you ask?”

     “Oh, it’s nothing I’m sure. Anyway, enjoy your night and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow!” I said as I headed toward my car. That didn’t help. I guess nobody is interested in Patty’s plain old PB&J. 

     I started my drive home, and decided I’d ask around again in the morning. Maybe someone else is having the same problem after all. But then again, maybe my lunches are just that good that The Lunch Box Bandit can’t help it? 

     Maybe I need to consider some equally genius tactics as my baby bottles to keep the Bandit at bay. I had put a fence around my lettuce to keep the rabbits out of the garden this summer. Maybe something like that could work! 

     When I got home, I made my dinner of Swedish meatballs over egg noodles, and put aside a portion to bring to work as usual. Now for the defense measures! 

     I went to my pantry, and found my box of toothpicks. I counted twelve, and returned to my lunch portion of meatballs. Carefully, I placed all twelve toothpicks into the meatballs. I replaced the lid, and set it in the fridge, happy with my plan. The Bandit will need to move around a veritable fence of toothpicks to get at my lunch now! I’d just have to be sure I removed all twelve toothpicks before I began to eat it myself. Yes. This plan was genius!

I slept soundly, knowing my lunch would be safe the following day. Thursday was usually a light day for me, and I looked forward to some “me time” at my desk before lunch. As I read the latest installment in Gardener’s Daily about proper spacing of cherry tomatoes, my stomach told me it was just about time to eat. I glanced at the clock on my computer, and to my delight, it was 12:23pm. I stood and stretched, rubbed my eyes, and was about to make my way to the break room, when I heard a great commotion in the hallway. 

     Quickly, I went to see what all the noise was about. 

     “Hurry! Call 911! Get an ambulance!” Jeff yelled.

     “They’re on their way!” Barb assured the crowd that had gathered outside the break room, peering in the window. 

     “What’s going on?” I eagerly asked to the crowd in general.

     “Dave’s gasping for air and bleeding from his mouth! Oh it’s terrible! I’ve never seen so much blood!” Gloria shouted dramatically from the doorway of the breakroom. 

     Dave was my boss, and rarely made an appearance unless he had to. Why was he in the breakroom before lunchtime? He generally eats alone in his office anyway. Then it dawned on me! He was trying to catch The Lunch Box Bandit too! And, in his heroic pursuit, was met with resistance from the Bandit! Dave undoubtedly caught him in the act, and a fight ensued. The Bandit let fly punches, landing one right in his mouth. His teeth may have gone right through his lips, as he tried to apprehend the thief! 

     Now wait, what if I’m all wrong? What if…Dave IS the thief! My boss? A lunch thief? No. It couldn’t be. But if he’s bleeding from the mouth, did he eat my meatballs and cut up his mouth with the toothpicks? Oh, dear! This is awful! 

     I heard the sound of sirens, and soon, two EMTs were wheeling Dave away on a stretcher. A victim of his own gluttonous sins?

As they wheeled Dave into the elevator, he looked my way and we locked eyes. 

     “Tooth…picks…” he muttered as the doors closed, and he was taken away. 

     I may have just accidentally killed my boss. Or, at the very least, severely injured! Would the others know I had set a trap? Did they know about my murderous meatballs?

     I began to sweat thinking about a life behind bars. I wasn’t cut out for jailtime. I needed to destroy the evidence, and fast! 

     I raced to the break room where the others were consoling each other and eating quietly. Stealthy as a fox, I grabbed my lunch box and crept unnoticed from the room. 

     Back in the sanctity of my office, I opened my lunch box and saw a scoop of noodles and murder balls were missing. Dave! You fool! You weren’t supposed to swallow them!

     I decided to leave work early, and noticed the cop cars pulling in the parking lot as I made my way towards home. This was all very bad. Would they come after me? Had anyone else seen Dave eat from my lunch right before his bloody departure? 

     The next day, I arrived early. I needed to get the dirt from Patty, and plan my next move. 

     “So, what were the cops doing here yesterday?” I tried to casually ask. 

     “Questions about what happened to Dave. You know, did we see anything, suspect anything, that kind of thing.”

     “And did you? You know, see or suspect anything?”

     “Well, you had just brought up strange things happening at lunch, so I told them you may know something.” 

     “Oh, right. Yes. But, nothing unusual really has happened. Probably just my imagination.” 

     “They want to cover all their bases. Can’t blame them. I mean, it IS a murder investigation now.”

     “A murder? You mean…Dave is dead?” I gasped. 

     “Murder, attempted homicide, accident, all the same really.”

     I gulped. 

     “Don’t worry. I’m sure he got what was coming to him. Did you know he was planning to let me go this week? Downsizing. His secretary let it slip one day while we were in the restroom. But now, he won’t be downsizing anything. And all thanks to your meatballs.” Patty said with a sinister smile. 

Wait. How did she know about my meatballs? Unless she was the one sneaking my lunches, knew I’d do something like this eventually, and…

I sat looking at Patty, and she returned my look. 

     “Well. I think we’re both on the same page here, Patty. I’ll see you at quitting time,” I said and showed myself out. 

     So, maybe a happy ending for everyone except Dave. Months passed, and nobody ever knew just what happened to the Lunch Box Bandit. 

     Nobody, except Patty and I.