mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Another story from my high school days Remember my friend Alanna I talked about yesterday? She was/is my dear friend from what will be referred to in the unit of my autobiography as "The Picayune Days." She signed the guestbook again. Go read. It's a hoot. I'll wait. Still waiting. Um-hmmm. Ok. So, it's not as funny to all of you who obviously didn't spend hour upon endless hour with me in my high school days. But she mentioned something in her latest appearance on my guestbook that I am surprised I've never mentioned up to this point. It was the evil force known as Elisha Wood. She was my Superman's Lex Luthor. She was the Al Gore to my George Bush. She was... she was... My girlfriend in 8th grade. But remember Marcus? My best boy from those days? Yep. He dated her, too. Just at different times. He hated her just as much as I, maybe even more. Marcus has a knack for refining and purifying his hate. He's good at it. Since Elisha was just one more thing we had in common, and since we were two high school guys with nothing better to do than play ping-pong on Friday nights and dream up admittedly evil things to do to ex-girlfriends, we ended up having a lot of fun with our common foe. I think this happened the summer before I left for boarding school. I can't really remember the exact chronology of things any more. It's been over ten years. Details begin to slip. Our goal that summer was to toilet-paper this girl's house as often as we possibly could. I think our goal to t-p it progressively worse evolved through the summer. The first time we hit the house, we had a mere ten rolls of toilet paper. It was a small house, we figured. Ten rolls should sufficiently cover all of her trees (tall, long-leaf pine trees that were impossible to rid completely of toilet paper), the shrubbery, and still have enough to completely wrap that bright blue house donned with a neon red door. Did I mention her folks were a tad weird as well? Well, they were. It took us all of about four or five minutes to use up all of our toilet paper. We rushed back to his house and had a few cokes and played a few rounds of ping-pong, all the while laughing at our accomplishment. The next morning, we drove by to admire our feat. The precedence had been set. I think Marcus and I hit her house four other times that summer. That's once in around every two weeks. Our last attack was the most memorable, and to this day I am still proud of our own personal Toilet Paper Hiroshima. It began at around 6:00 in the evening. Marcus and I had saved our money, and we drove over to our local supermarket and we *each* got a cart, which we proceeded to fill up with the cheapest one-ply toilet paper we could find. It seems like we spent a rediculous amount of money on toilet paper. Twenty dollars? Thirty? Whatever two carts overflowing with cheap, no-name toilet paper cost. Some schmo, CEO of No-Name Sandpaper Toilet Paper Company, ate well that week, sho 'nuff. We stashed our arsenal in a secret place, and we waited until the dead of night, Picayune-style: 10pm. We ended up counting sixty rolls of toilet paper. That meant that the two of us would be tossing thirty rolls apiece. We were dressed to the T's in black, and we had a plan for who would get what: Marc would take the trees, I would get the bushes, and we would both participate in running the toilet paper round and round the house as to completely wrap it up. They would have to get scissors to cut their way out of that house! This one will make the front page of the paper! It took us THIRTY minutes to paper this house. We put a lot of work into this paper job. It. Looked. Nice. We peeled away screeming and cheering, singing our theme song, and feeling higher than any drug could ever possibly take you. We were high on life. We were high on toilet paper! Until the next morning when we woke up early just to drive by the house for a peek. The Woods, ever used to getting hit with toilet paper by this point, had already cleaned up their yard. Bastards! I had even brought my camera. But I still remember how great of an event that was. It took two guys thirty minutes to roll a house with sixty rolls of toilet paper. Time went on through the summer, and Marcus thought he could top it. But I knew our best had been done. Our battle had been fought. The war was over. So, Marcus recruited someone else. They got another sixty rolls and were headed towards infamy. But I knew they were greedy. Oh, yes sir. I knew. What I didn't know until later was that Marcus had a curfew that night of 9:00. Which meant he had to start rolling the house at around 8:15 in order to take his new recruit home and be back before curfew. Remember now that this is summer. It gets dark at around 9. Meanwhile, I was at home watching TV. My mom got a phone call from the Picayune Police Department saying that they had spotted me vandalizing someone's yard. "No. He's been here all night," my ever observant mom said. I knew: Marcus had been busted. Caught. P.O.W. Marcus had to go back after unleashing his 60 rolls and actually clean the yard up himself. And had my mom let me, I would have gone and laughed and laughed. But what put the icing on the cake was that Elisha's mom called my mom and apologized for accusing me of rolling her house! It was like watching your enemy sign the surrender treaty. Well, that's yet another story from the "JP as a snotty high-school kid" files. You know... given the chance, I would do it again. But alas, Elisha nor her family still live in Picayune. But it could be well worth the effort to hire someone to find them. I just called in sick from work tomorrow. Fake cough and all. I'm so convincing. My fellow DEP people and I are going to Scott AFB in St. Louis for the day for a tour. I'm interested in seeing what the on-base living situation looks like and what people do who have the job(s) I will be having. Plus, I want to see what the food tastes like on base. I've heard it is pretty decent. We'll have to see. I'll have a full report for you tomorrow. 11:45 p.m. - Mon., Jan. 13, 2003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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