thing was no big deal. He blinked his eyes a few times
and then jogged over to the other guys.
Larry and Casey assumed leadership of the
operation and whispered instructions. The group was to maintain
zero visual contact with potential civilians. This meant that if
any cars came, everyone should meld into the darkness and remain
still until the threat passed. If they were spotted by a cop,
instructions were to hide if possible. If not, the order was to
scatter and avoid capture by any means. The meeting point was back
at the house but only after you were sure you were not being
followed. Larry reminded the group that Thousand Oaks cops were “a
bunch of lazy fucking pigs” so this pretty much just meant you had
to hop over a few backyard fences to get away. Casey solemnly
reminded the participants that anyone caught was on their own and
could in no way implicate the rest of the group. Larry threatened
serious physical harm to anyone who snitched and held up the
plastic bag holding the dead raccoon to emphasize the point. In the
darkness, Gary rolled his eyes at the overdramatic approach.
After a few more minutes of babble, Larry and
Casey got to the interesting part of the plan, what they would
actually do when they got there. Casey took the lead here, and it
finally occurred to Gary that this was a well-planned event and not
a spur-of-the-moment idea in the middle of the pillow fight
tournament. It seemed Casey was more upset about the Patrick Zell
situation than he had let on.
Casey announced the battle plan: “All right
guys, each of you is armed with three rolls of TP. Additionally,
Dave has a bag of confetti for the yard, Larry has a dozen eggs and
I have a baseball bat for the mailbox. When we get there, split
into groups of two and start the TP process. One guy throws over
trees or branches and the other guy tries to catch. Then tear and
re-throw. Try to get it as high up as possible and don’t worry
about the bushes at eye-level that are easy to clean up. While you
are doing this, Larry and I will sneak into the backyard and use
half of the eggs on high-level targets. We will then come around
and hit the car and the front of the house with eggs. They have a
BMW they usually leave in the driveway. At this point, Dave will
confetti the yard. Finally, if we still have cover and no one is
coming out, I will place the raccoon on the welcome mat and light
it on fire. Once the fire is lit, Gary takes out the mailbox with
the bat and I will ring the doorbell. Then we run like hell. Avoid
the expressway on the way home and cut through the Turnburry’s yard
and across the creek instead.”
Gary could see that Casey was quite proud of
his plan, but he still had a few questions about the wisdom of this
mission: “Hey guys, I realize Zell is a dweeb, but don’t you think
this is a little much? I mean, it is probably just the parents who
will have to clean everything up, not him.”
Larry: “Gary, quit being such a pussy.”
Casey: “Yeah.”
No one had further questions, so the unit got
underway. Larry quickly ran out from behind the tree and headed
north on Hummingbird Lane. He maintained a crouched position as if
avoiding enemy fire. Each man followed in a single line, with Ryan
bringing up the rear and Gary just in front of him.
The boys returned to base in Casey’s bedroom
seventy-three minutes later and debriefed about the mission. All
targets were hit. Twenty-four rolls of TP were now hanging from the
trees in the yard, the lawn was heavily laced with confetti, the
mailbox was destroyed, eggs were splattered all about, and a
smoldering pile of raccoon remains lay on what was the welcome
mat.
They encountered no police and only a small
number of civilian drive-bys. The boys felt confident they were
unsighted and congratulated themselves on a job well done. Casey
went to the garage and brought back a six-pack of root beer and a
six-pack of Coke to celebrate with.
It would not be for another four days
and then jogged over to the other guys.
Larry and Casey assumed leadership of the
operation and whispered instructions. The group was to maintain
zero visual contact with potential civilians. This meant that if
any cars came, everyone should meld into the darkness and remain
still until the threat passed. If they were spotted by a cop,
instructions were to hide if possible. If not, the order was to
scatter and avoid capture by any means. The meeting point was back
at the house but only after you were sure you were not being
followed. Larry reminded the group that Thousand Oaks cops were “a
bunch of lazy fucking pigs” so this pretty much just meant you had
to hop over a few backyard fences to get away. Casey solemnly
reminded the participants that anyone caught was on their own and
could in no way implicate the rest of the group. Larry threatened
serious physical harm to anyone who snitched and held up the
plastic bag holding the dead raccoon to emphasize the point. In the
darkness, Gary rolled his eyes at the overdramatic approach.
After a few more minutes of babble, Larry and
Casey got to the interesting part of the plan, what they would
actually do when they got there. Casey took the lead here, and it
finally occurred to Gary that this was a well-planned event and not
a spur-of-the-moment idea in the middle of the pillow fight
tournament. It seemed Casey was more upset about the Patrick Zell
situation than he had let on.
Casey announced the battle plan: “All right
guys, each of you is armed with three rolls of TP. Additionally,
Dave has a bag of confetti for the yard, Larry has a dozen eggs and
I have a baseball bat for the mailbox. When we get there, split
into groups of two and start the TP process. One guy throws over
trees or branches and the other guy tries to catch. Then tear and
re-throw. Try to get it as high up as possible and don’t worry
about the bushes at eye-level that are easy to clean up. While you
are doing this, Larry and I will sneak into the backyard and use
half of the eggs on high-level targets. We will then come around
and hit the car and the front of the house with eggs. They have a
BMW they usually leave in the driveway. At this point, Dave will
confetti the yard. Finally, if we still have cover and no one is
coming out, I will place the raccoon on the welcome mat and light
it on fire. Once the fire is lit, Gary takes out the mailbox with
the bat and I will ring the doorbell. Then we run like hell. Avoid
the expressway on the way home and cut through the Turnburry’s yard
and across the creek instead.”
Gary could see that Casey was quite proud of
his plan, but he still had a few questions about the wisdom of this
mission: “Hey guys, I realize Zell is a dweeb, but don’t you think
this is a little much? I mean, it is probably just the parents who
will have to clean everything up, not him.”
Larry: “Gary, quit being such a pussy.”
Casey: “Yeah.”
No one had further questions, so the unit got
underway. Larry quickly ran out from behind the tree and headed
north on Hummingbird Lane. He maintained a crouched position as if
avoiding enemy fire. Each man followed in a single line, with Ryan
bringing up the rear and Gary just in front of him.
The boys returned to base in Casey’s bedroom
seventy-three minutes later and debriefed about the mission. All
targets were hit. Twenty-four rolls of TP were now hanging from the
trees in the yard, the lawn was heavily laced with confetti, the
mailbox was destroyed, eggs were splattered all about, and a
smoldering pile of raccoon remains lay on what was the welcome
mat.
They encountered no police and only a small
number of civilian drive-bys. The boys felt confident they were
unsighted and congratulated themselves on a job well done. Casey
went to the garage and brought back a six-pack of root beer and a
six-pack of Coke to celebrate with.
It would not be for another four days
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