Halloween - Teenage Trouble

 

Halloween always reminds me of some of the idiotic things we did as teenagers. And with over a half century of perspective, I can certainly say they were idiotic.  We were too old for treats, but certainly not tricks. Stuffing cherry bombs in mailboxes, rolling yards with toilet paper, and tossing water balloons  were always Halloween mainstays. Once we got creative and made a dummy we laid on the side of a busy road.  

However, the perfect tool for teenage hooligans has always been the egg. They’re perfect. They fit well in the hand. The shell is strong enough to allow you to throw it long distances, and frail enough to explode on impact.  As a crusty old adult, I wonder why any grocery store would even sell eggs to a teenager on October 31 without showing an ID, a background check, and a letter from their Mom. Maybe even a 3 day waiting period would help. 

About the only problem I had when buying eggs for Halloween was an occasional cashier who made me sweat a little  before she sold them to me. 

“Son, it’s Halloween tomorrow, what do you need with four dozen eggs?”  

“Uhhh. Well, we have a covered dish on Sunday at  church and my Mom’s making egg salad.”  

“But today’s just Tuesday. Why do you need them now?”  

“Ummm. My Mom doesn’t like to wait ‘til the last minute.”

“Mmm hmm.  And what’s your name?” 

“Uhhh. Gene Trent.”

I recall one particular Halloween when about 10 of us got together, each armed with a carton of eggs and mischievous intent. 

With power in numbers, we came up with a plan.  Instead of random gorilla hit and runs, we found a perfect spot to ambush unsuspecting motorists. It was a patch of woods with a steep bank that overlooked a road leading into a subdivision. When a car came by, one of us would give the signal and the unfortunate vehicle was hit with almost a dozen eggs. Normally, the car would hit the brakes, and we would duck down, the darkness hiding our position. Within a few seconds, the car left, and the process began again. It was like an assembly line. Henry Ford would’ve been proud. 

From our perspective, everything was working perfectly.  That is, until a pickup truck drove by. As usual, the signal was given and all us pelted the vehicle with our poultry grenades. Predictably, the truck stopped.  But this time, it backed up to the kill zone where we promptly hit it again with another dozen eggs.  

Almost immediately, the driver jumped out of the truck and began screaming, “I’m coming up there and I’m gonna kill every one of you! I mean it!”   And he started  climbing the hill.  

We scattered like roaches when a light was cut on. It was every vandal for himself.  Not one to wait around when someone threatens to kill me, I bailed out early.  I ran thru the briars and I ran thru the brambles and I ran thru the bushes where the rabbits wouldn’t go.  It was going to take a murderer with a lot of stamina and determination to kill me. 

Eventually the woods thinned out and I found myself in someone’s back yard.  Another couple hundred yards and I would be home free, just another kid walking on the street with the other trick or treaters.  I caught my breath and slowed down just enough to take a quick look over my shoulder.  One of my fellow hooligans, Terry, had just cleared the hill and was headed towards me at a high rate of speed, a look of fear etched in his face. I turned and continued to run for a few seconds, when I heard a cry for help.  Thru the darkness, I could make out Terry, pumping his arms and legs furiously. Strangely, he wasn’t moving. Instead, his whole body was sinking like a cowboy in quicksand.  

I knew what was happening.  There was a covered swimming pool in the yard that I saw and went around. But Terry, fueled by fear, sprinted in a straight line towards me, taking him right thru the middle of the pool. Now,  churning his legs on the pool cover, he was slowly sinking into the water like the Titanic. 

“Help me!,” he yelped. 

Murderer or no, I stopped running and began laughing out loud. No way I’m getting in that cold water. Besides, if the murderer came in our direction, he would get to him first. 

Terry managed to noisily  work himself out of the pool and caught up with me in the front yard. Together we stealthily walked a few blocks to the safety of the designated meeting place, a fellow perpetrator’s house.  Within a few minutes, all of us were accounted for - everyone escaped from the would be murderer’s clutches. 

 

And then I told absolutely everybody!