Common Fugitives

I went through enough toilet paper when I was in high school to account for at least two thirds of Connell National Forest.  Fortunately for me, it wasn't all used in the traditional way.  In fact, I would go so far as to say that most of it never came anywhere near a bathroom, unless you count the bathroom window.

I was a frequent participant in the great American pastime of launching as many rolls of toilet paper as possible, in  ten minutes or less, into some unsuspecting person's yard.  Of course the houses weren't chosen at random.  I wasn't out decorating the homes of widows or anything like that.  I typically chose people that I was friends with.  You know, just to show them that I cared, in the only way that a high school teenage boy knows how.  By annoying them.

I wasn't alone either.  I won't name any names but I'm pretty sure that the vast majority of all five people who will ever read this were co-conspirators with me.  Of course I feel safe in confessing all of this because the statute of limitations on toilet tissue crimes has long since passed.  Besides, I've moved away and, therefore, no longer fear retribution.

Walking into a grocery store at 10:30 PM and buying a case of T-P is a rite of passage that every teenage boy must go through.  Incidentally, if you want to have some fun, try adding some things to your purchase.  Toilet paper and a magazine is always good.  You might score points with a cute cashier buy purchasing a tear jerker movie, like Old Yeller or Empire Strikes Back (it always gets me when Vader confesses his paternity), to go along with your case of toilet tissue.  The girls all like a sensitive man, or so I'm told.  However, my favorite items to go along with a late night toilet paper purchase are pork rinds, bratwurst, sauerkraut and root beer and then throw in a can of Lysol just to sweeten the deal.  This combination also helps to keep people from asking too many prying questions.

Picking the house is always somewhat of a challenge.  You have to choose somebody who won't get all bent out of shape when they wake up to a two-ply blizzard the next morning.  As I recall we usually chose girls' houses because, well, we were boys.  It just seemed natural. We never could keep it a very good secret though.  In fact sometimes we would even leave a trademark as a hint.  For instance, one night we left Snapple bottles on the doorstep.  They were empty of course.  Not that it matters.  The whole next week, every time we passed the victim at school, we tried to be either holding a Snapple or mentioning something about it.  Gosh, we were the clever ones!  I wonder if folks ever worried that they would someday see my face next to the caption, "Worlds Dumbest Criminal"?

There were hazards involved.  Of course we always ran the risk of getting caught.  This only happened once, and our punishment was being invited inside for hot chocolate.  Oh and cleaning up the mess the next day.  It was funny though, I could have sworn that there were four of us the night before, launching T-P grenades, but the next morning it turned out that there had only been two.  At least, that's all that showed up to clean anyway.

We also had to watch out for electric fences.  Oh how I still laugh out loud when I remember hearing the sudden shriek of pain piercing the night air.  Twice!!  The same night!!  I'm not sure what those folks were trying to keep out of their garden, but I do know of one individual who never entered it again.  And no, it wasn't me.

I guess what we were doing could be classified as vandalism.  Ancient petroglyphs were also technically vandalism when they were perpetrated.  Now they are priceless artifacts of past ages.  That's how I like to remember my late night escapades with my friends.  At least we were giving something useful.  You never know where or when that bratwurst might rear its ugly head.  We were simply making sure those folks were prepared.  So why not let the good times roll?