Egg on Your Face
Is 34 years young too old to egg someones house? I sure hope not because after some reminiscing about old times I think a good group of drunk friends randomly egging some houses, or maybe not so randomly (LOL), could be one heck of a fun evening.
I’m pretty sure most adolescents have egged a house in their day. It ranks right up there with TP-ing a house or shaving cream on Halloween – you simply cannot pass through your teen years without partaking in this juvenile yet harmless release of revenge. It begins all so innocent, too. A small group of teenage boys walk into the local grocery store at 10pm and purchase a dozen eggs each. Yep, nothing phishy going on here. You can toss out the old, “mom sent us to the store for breakfast” or “dad wants steak and eggs for dinner” excuse, but that cashier knows those encrusted embryos will meet their demise spattering across a garage door or brick wall or front bay window. A dozen cans of shaving cream for boys without a whisker between them? Carry on, nothing to see here…
I recall my first attempt at egging a house. It was so rookie. My buddy Rich and I thought up this brilliant idea one boring night without a target in mind. A quick trip to Dominick’s and we have a couple dozen fine Grade A Large projectiles. We take aim upon a brand new home near his subdivision and, standing clear in the middle of the street in plain view, launch our first egg-offensive. The first egg of each of ours hits the garage door squarely – Direct Hit! One problem – aluminum garage door and empty garage combine with shattering egg to make one very, very loud bang. I mean so loud that it scared the shit out of both human egg launchers and we split the area without releasing a second missile all the while laughing so hard we can barely run.
Our second and subsequent attempts were much more successful. Rich’s parents lived backed up against a very large parking lot. Ironically enough the parking lot belonged to a church. Ironic because our targets in this parking lot were high school kids that would park deep back into the lot and have sex in their car. Rich’s parents lived at the far end of the lot – the optimum locale. His parent’s landscaping provided the perfect cover. We’d sit upstairs in his room playing video games until we saw a car pull back. Game on! This really was too easy. We’d grab our secret stash of eggs and sneak to the optimum striking position. We were able to get point blank range with ease. Once the car started bouncing it was a pretty safe bet that nobody was paying attention to the two kids sneaking up alongside the car. We could easily unload a dozen eggs each at point blank range before we split for the neighborhood yards - always running away from his parents house but immediately circling back to watch the ensuing antics from the safety of his bedroom window. Sometimes the guy would come stumbling out of the car trying to pull up his pants and give chase but that would merely open himself up to our sights for further launches. Looking back on it I can see how cruel this was – I know I would have been PISSED if I was a high school kid getting some ass and someone decides to not only interrupt my successful conquest, but does so but egging my wheels. I try to rationalize this by thinking how many unwanted pregnancies I prevented.
Things were going good and weekends were becoming a lot more fun as an 8th grader. That is until we got out-smarted by those high school’ers. One particular evening everything was going to plan until we launched our offensive attack. It turns out we were set up by the high school kids, and as soon as we struck, so did they. The doors to the car kick open immediately. We turn and run but find ourselves looking at another group of guys coming at us from the direction of our normal flight path. We immediately reverse our fields and make our way through the yards. Normally this would be our home field advantage, but we were forced off course this evening. I’m happy to say we both successfully got away by effectively splitting up. I, however, found myself inside a backyard garden covered in chicken wire which literally sliced me open. My oh-so cherished pair of Guess Jeans was sliced from my hip down to my ankle. I suffered an open wound from my mid-thigh past my knee that left me with a scar lasting into my young adult years. A quick story to the parents how I was attacked by high school kids coming home and I’m lucky to have gotten away and I’m off the hook besides a nice bloody flesh wound.
Apparently those high school kids thought that even though they didn’t capture us, they had won the war simply by surprising us. I think not. It wasn’t long before they went right back to using that parking lot for their sexual escapades and we sat in Rich’s bedroom playing Nintendo with the birds-eye view of the entire lot just waiting for the headlights. The difference now was Rich and I had the lay of the land researched and our offensive tactics were revised. We would attack from various positions, always after careful recognisance for surprise counterattacks, and would always run in different directions. Real original, right?
This worked brilliantly until that one fateful night. Things were wrong right from the beginning but I didn’t catch the signs. I wasn’t working with my usual partner for starters. I was working with Joe on this evening, a rookie to the game. This was his first showing and he was looking to step up in a big way – show that he belonged. Additionally, the car didn’t park in the usual spot under some trees out of the light of the towering halides above; it parked much closer to where we setup and plan our attack. Finally, we didn’t wait for the car to begin rocking with activity. We shot our load early, pardon the pun, and as soon as we launched our siege the cherries of an unmarked squad car beaconed from our target. The high school kids got so tired of us that they actually ratted out themselves and their location to set us up. It worked pretty damn well I must say. If not for Rich’s parents letting us in their front door and covering for us when we were upstairs we were dead set on getting caught that night. We sat up in Rich’s room breathing hard, laughing harder, and trying to not do either even more so, as we watched the cops search his backyard bushes and those of his neighbors with flashlights for over an hour and knock on the doors of each homeowner. Rich’s dad new we were guilty, but like a totally cool dad that had done something similar when he was our age, he covered our ass and sent the cops out searching his backyard with best wishes.
This wasn’t our last evening of eggscapdes (sorry, couldn’t help myself). Yeah, we could clutch (booo!) onto that memory as our golden egg (seriously?), but we were no chickens (almost funny), we were merely just starting to get cooking (has he no shame?) and we weren’t letting ourselves get poached (make it stop) by any cocks (yes, I have no shame). We continued our shameful attacks for about another year and we were never successfully caught, although some guy racing his 4×4 truck through an open prairie was our my exciting chase I’d have to say. Egging a cop car was good, but the getaway was literally 20 seconds. Running from a high-revving Jeep driven throguh a grass field by a road-raged freshly-egged lunatic…. slightly more exhilarating.
