My diet is a serious matter. People don't believe me about what I eat every night.
I absolutely need my half pound of a certain veggie. Deep fried. And salted. Various flavors optional.
For candy? No less than eight ounces. Preferable sour.
Alaska forced me to give up the potatoes. Not enough pack real estate to blow it up it with the goods. But no candy was not a possibility.
This was the last carry and the shortest. And I've been running deficient on my magic diet, so I had a special delivery made. For pounds and pounds of the necessities. Now I'm ready for the end. And for the nightly one-man party in my tent!