What the fork?

Like every good citizen of Planet Earth, I get involved in vital issues that concern us all.

Damn the consequences.  When someone must speak out when no one else will, I am there, my friend.

So here goes:

What's going on with all the disappearing forks? 

You know that plastic thing in the kitchen drawer where the silverware goes?  Ours is white.  The color of yours may vary according to taste and/or if you took the cheap route and picked a light gray flimsy one at the Dollar Store, Everything's a Dollar or the 99 Cent Store (which should be running the other two stores out of business, but never seems to).

Here's the deal.  We do the dishes and fill all the little slots in that plastic holder with spoons (two sizes), knives, dinner forks and salad forks.

So far so good.  But the next time I'm in dire need of a good fork, or any fork, really, the pronged silverware slot is mysteriously empty.

We know there are gremlins in the house, despite a costly alarm system (which, come to think of it, might be blocking a gremlin exit at night).

Be that as it may, my theory is that the Sock Gremlins, which have broken up more good pairs than a cheap divorce attorney, have formed an alliance with the Fork Gremlins.

Laughing, they must be, as they make off with forks; perhaps stuffing stolen socks (one, never both from a matching duo) as cushion to silence the movement to a secret storage place behind a wall somewhere.

Why?  Why us?  Or, more specifically, why me?  I didn't do anything to them.  I just want the silverware to be there when I need it.

What the fork?