Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Ah, tis the holiday season.

Once again, I am reminded of a simpler time in my life. A time of discovery and exploration. A time of tomfoolery and shenanigans. A time when the etiquettes of the normal world didn't apply. A time known as Idaho.

For this installment, I would like to offer a disclaimer. The following trip down memory lane resides a tad on the distasteful and slightly nauseating side. Please accept my apologies in advance.

Amidst this particular holiday season, many years ago, I found myself hanging out on a cold and wintry weekend with a couple of my hoodlum friends, who, for the sake of this story, we will refer to as Andy, Alley, and Donnie. We were suffering from a void of entertainment on account of the fact we weren't invited to the big holiday party at Kandice Barn's house. We were denied said invitation because we didn't hold the mantle of being worthy seniors in Jerome High School. You see, this was a "Seniors only" affair, and we were nothing but pagan juniors who would never be allowed to sip wassail set to the tune of Wilson Phillips' Christmas album from the holy courts of this unsupervised celebration.

Our boredom was suddenly interrupted as Alley walked into the room. His face reflected a sinister smirk as he produced a small shoe box. He held it out proudly to the group. My approach was quickly stunted as he lifted the lid revealing one carefullly carved craft of human excrement.

A small billow of steam lightly glazed the lincoln. That's when it hit me.

ME: Dude, that's fresh poo.

ALLEY: I know, I took a crap in this box!

ME: *I searched for a possible response and to this day don't think one exists*

ANDY: Sick dude, get that out of my house now!

Laughing, Alley pranced up the stairs and out the front door into the cold dark night.

Surprisingly, the night returned to normalcy as we delved into various video games and other passers of time. Eventually, the novelty of our entertainment avenues wore thin. We had to get out of the house. We had to do something. We were desperate for amusement. And this, as you'll soon see, proved to not be a good thing.

Before I knew it, we were piled into Andy's small pickup truck, plowing down the country roads of freshly fallen snow.

Destination: Kandice's party

Mission: Mass havoc

Ammunition: Poo in box

Status of poo: Frozen

Delivery vessel: Gift wrapping

Yes, we had a plan. That plan involved disguising Alley's ice-bound bowel movement as an innocent holiday bestowal, placed lovingly on the doorstep by the neighbors. Sadly, I wasn't only going along with this plan, I was its originator.

We approached the target. "Cut the lights!" I commanded. Andy crept the truck slowly around the corner, keeping it out of the line of sight. He brought it to a stop behind a large neighboring bush. Quickly and quietly, we assembled. Gathering around, I drew the game plan in the snow with my finger. Donnie was the fastest of us, earning him the job of delivery. I was on lookout. Andy was on getaway driver duties. Alley, well, he'd already done enough for one night.

We silently whisked through the snow covered bushes and trees, approaching Kandice's house. As we neared, the faint sound of laughter mixed with Trixter tickled our ears. There was no turning back now. We rendezvoused behind a large bush directly in front of the house. Cars lined the street. They all appeared empty. We took a moment to survey the target. The house had a gigantic living room window on the front, allowing us to see everything going on inside. They were all there. Every senior in the school. All enjoying the festive holiday spirit, completely unaware of the terror lurking outside.

It was go time.

I motioned to Donnie, handing him the package. The note read: "Wishing you the very best this holiday season. Love, your neighbors, the Ronsons."

He took the package, nodded, and scurried up the lawn. This was it. We were doing it. Looking around, he approached the front door. He set the package on the doorstep, rang the bell and bolted down the driveway, covering his tracks behind the many parked cars. Meanwhile, I froze. I hadn't planned my escape route. But it was too late. Kandice eagerly opened the door, expecting more party patrons. The sudden increase in music volume caught me off guard. I was trapped. I ducked behind the bush, peeking through just enough to see her curiously examine and retrieve the package. She scanned the yard for a moment and then retired back to the party, closing the door.

The glow of the living room lights reflected in my wide eyes as I watched the following unfold from behind the bush.

Kandice entered the living room waving her arms in excitement, commanding the attention of the party. It appeared as though she wanted the opening of this mysterious gift to be the centerpiece of entertainment for the night. The music was killed as people gathered closely around. My heart sank. She ripped the bow off and began to pry the box open with the wrapping still in place.

Freeze it: Have any of you ever struggled with opening a bag of chips? You pull and pull and pull until suddenly the bag opens. But it's too late, the force of your opposing arms causes the chips to propel through the air and all over the floor.

Suddenly, the wrapping paper gave way. As her arms separated, the climate-petrified turd launched out of the box and, in slow motion, soared overhead, across the living room. Eyes of horror, confusion and disgust watched as the poo took flight, eventually making impact, shattering and shooting shrapnel all across the hardwood floor.

Panic set in. Screams consumed the silent night air. Hands quickly covered mouths. Dry heaving commenced. The party was in shambles. It didn't take long for the meatwhistle football guys of the party to realize they'd been had. As they searched out the window and made their way down to the doorway, I bolted down the block back to the getaway truck. I jumped in the back, and Andy gunned the gas. The drive back was one of satisfaction.

Mission: Complete

Status: Success

Soon we found ourselves back where it all started in Andy's basement. We reveled in our recent doings. We were pleased. That will teach them for excluding us juniors. Perhaps in the future this will serve as a reminder to not stoop to such segregation. Just then Alley walked into the room. He presented a glass jar. A similar sinister smirk appeared across his face.

ALLEY: Hey guys, I just peed in this jar!


Blogger +spencer+ said...

yeah, i have heard that one before.

i still think you should've written, "don't open until the 25th" on the card.

1:44 PM

Blogger more caffeine, please said...

That very story is why you were cursed with a visit to Dr. Cole.

3:59 PM

Blogger ~j. said...

"Don't put it out with your boots,

7:14 AM


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