So, you’re on a hike and your friend starts complaining that their ankle hurts and that they need to cut the hike short. Sure. Maybe. Or is it that they just want to stop hanging out with you because you’ve brought your own poop bag? Don’t worry, there are plenty of ways you can find out whether this friend is faking an ankle injury—and determine whether you’re the one whose leg is getting pulled.
Offer to carry them.
If your friend has truly injured their ankle, they’ll practically jump into your arms if you offer to carry them, poop bag or no poop bag. But if you offer to carry them and they wince at your poop bag and say something like, “Ehhh, no thanks,” their injury is dubious at best.
Incidentally, if they do take up your offer and they’re super heavy, you can tell them you’ve injured your wrist.
Challenge them to a dance-off.
No one can resist a dance-off. Tell your “injured” “friend” you are a better dancer than they are and then start doing “the move.” If they join in, you’ll be able to see exactly how serious this supposed ankle injury is when they attempt to recreate “the move” (which, of course, they wouldn’t be able to execute under any circumstances—“the move” is your thing).
However, if instead of joining your dance-off they just look at your poop bag and say, “Would you stop swinging that thing around?” you’ve got yourself another clue as to what this “ankle injury” is really all about.
Ask them to hold your poop bag for a sec.
Enough games. It’s time to get to the heart of the matter. You’ve got to go behind a bush for yet another deposit and by now your poop bag is bursting at the seams. Ask your friend (who’s not even limping) to hold your poop bag for a minute while you go take care of business. If they say, “Of course, thank you for trusting me with it,” there’s a chance they’re in the clear and that their ankle, please God, is in a great amount of pain. However, if they balk at your simple request to hold your poop bag for just a second, it’s safe to say the jig is up—they’ve lied about their ankle in an effort to get away from you and your bag of poo.
Threaten to leave them for the bears.
By now an assortment of large bears have begun to follow you on your hike and your friend has already blamed your poop bag numerous times for attracting them. It’s not an unfair accusation—the bears do seem extremely curious about your bag of poo and it’s obvious they want to know more, as bears are an extremely intelligent species.
Your friend tried to back away from the bears but tripped on a rock and now claims to have hurt their ankle “for real” and needs “your help.” How very interesting. You’re reminded of that wonderful story, “The Boy Who Cried Wolf.” You ask your friend if they remember how that story ended. Your friend starts begging you and admits they were weirded out by the fact that you brought your own poop bag on the hike and can’t understand why you’ve been pooping so much. Ah-ha!
Save their life.
After their revealing confession, your friend starts pleading with you to throw your poop bag into the woods to distract the bears so you can both get away. Fat chance. Instead, you must tie your poop bag securely to your belt, bend down and scoop your injured friend up onto your back. They’re so heavy and you actually do hurt your wrist, so you end up tipping over and tumbling down a steep cliff. You end up at the bottom without a scratch, largely because you landed on top of your friend, who is now complaining about their head. You drag them to your Ford Fiesta, plop your poop bag on the dashboard and head to the hospital.
You’re driving by a Taco Bell when you ask your friend if they’d like to stop for a quick bite? They decline—their head really hurts, they say.
Oh, really?