The Muffin Stealer

May 6, 2013
By nnary-grace laly BRONZE, Gainsville, Florida
nnary-grace laly BRONZE, Gainsville, Florida
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

They call me the muffin stealer. I hadn’t meant to make a scene, but our need for snacks that didn’t coat our throats in salt, was worth it. We would rather starve than deal with this. The snack was called veggie snacks, but it might as well have been called cactus crackers, and we needed an alternative.

The predicament came about at summer camp when I was 8. My friends and I got off the bus and raced straight to the field. It was nonstop play and we worked up quite an appetite. Little did we know, the slimy rascals that grownups had called “boys”, were at work taking every mouthwatering snack up the hill and into their cabin. When we saw this, we were furious. Our faces were red as we laid eyes on the only thing that was left, the veggie snacks. They were only chips but we treated it like it was gruel from a concentration camp. We picked them up with our red shaky hands, and marched back to our cabin without ever taking our eyes off the slime balls that still had all the good food.

As soon as we got into our room, someone yelled “this is an outrage!” and another called out “something must be done!”. It was then when I had a beyond brilliant idea: I jumped up out of all the dreary faces and yelled “were raiding their cabin and taking back what’s rightfully ours!” we all cheered and whooped. A girl took out her diary to write down the plans and we all smiled cynically. We all huddled in while I scribbled down how we were going to end the abomination. Whispering and giggles filled the room for about 15 minutes and then we were done. It was full proof.

It was around noon, the sun high in the sky as we creeped up the endless hill. All the while, the boys were at lunch, eating happily without a clue. We were all shaking nervously. It was a scary thing, sneaking into the boys cabin. They had cooties and we didn’t want to go near them, let alone their dwelling place. As we actually creaked open the front door, two of the girls backed down, but not me. I was going to get my snacks. I peered around the musty scented room not know whether I would be able to stand the smell let alone find the food amongst the socks and shirts draping everything. And just when I thought I couldn’t handle it any longer, I spotted them. A huge box of muffins almost sparkling out from the laundry surrounding it.

Then, I heard a noise… the voice of a boy. I plugged my nose with one arm and shoved the muffins under the other and sprinted out the back door. It was too far to get to the path and I was sure that the boys had seen my through the window. I was forced to gallop through the rough shrubs and trees. I couldn’t feel my legs, I just ran. Behind me I could hear about 5 voices calling to get the muffins and I would see my friends jumping up and down, hurrying me. IT was strenuous and the downhill sprint had me doing everything I could to not face plant forward and lose the muffins.

I finally made it to the bottom and I was unstoppable from there. I practically tumbled into my cabin but I was in safety. And I looked back through the crack of the door just before shutting it. One of the boys chasing me had fallen down the hill and the rest were still coming for me screaming “muffin stealer!” with their fists shaking in the air. I shut the door and in the silence I whispered “yes, I’m the muffin stealer.”

The author's comments:
My personal viniette about a childhood memory. It is a silly story about what we did at summer camp when I was young and I turned it into a drama.

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