Monday, November 12, 2012

Criminal Egging

While my high school friends and I often participated in silly shenanigans, we usually didn't purposely try to be mean to people. One time, however, my friend Stitch and I decided we needed to egg someone's house. To this day, I can't understand why we felt that need, or why we picked this particular person. I can't recall our target's name, but I do remember he was a nice kid who never did anything to us. But in our minds, he needed an egging.

And once a teenager gets something in his mind, it's hard to replace it with something else.

We planned our caper at Stitch's house. I distracted his mom in the kitchen while he stole two eggs from the fridge. It wasn't easy, because his mom had a sense of knowing when we were about to try something. We managed to get the eggs and then drove my old 1971 Ford Country Squire station wagon over to the target house.

Let me preface this next part by saying I'm not sure I truly believe in karma. But I do believe that all of us, sooner or later, always get what we deserve.

This was to be a drive-by egging, so I inched the Country Squire past the target house. It was late afternoon, there were people all over, and we worried who might see us. But we egged each other on—ha!—and were determined to go through with it. I think we had eggs on our brains. Stitch sat up on the open window sill and tossed his egg over the car. It soared in a beautiful arc across the yard and … it landed on the lawn and bounced. Then rolled to a stop by the doorstep. Stitch's mom must have known what we were up to and hard-boiled the egg.

I knew I could do way better than that. I brought my left hand back across my chest. I threw with all my might out the driver's window. But the egg never made it. Instead, my hand slammed against the front pillar of the car. I nearly broke my fingers. Egg splattered everywhere, especially down the defrost vents.

Karma had struck quickly that day.

It took at least a full hour for the two of us to restore our proper breathing. We laughed so hard we needed oxygen. And the Country Squire never smelled the same after that.

3 comments:

  1. I'm noticing a pattern here...Maybe your Dad was right? I was a bad influence on his little boy. Either that or we both complemented each others deviant sides?

    I can picture the street and the house with green paint if I recall, large trees in the front yard...The target was yours I remember. I don't think either of us particularly liked the person who was to receive the air mailed albumens, but it was somebody that you had a real beef with, which why we didn't throw cow poo to keep with the beef theme instead of unfertilized chickens is beyond me?
    Anyway I think it might have be that Ben Dover kid we both thought so much of..?

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    Replies
    1. Let the Facebook stalking begin...

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  2. Hmm, that name sounds familiar. Oh well. I hope our kids don't read this and discover what kind of kids we were. Wait, is this Internet thing public?

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