“Alright guys, if we happen to see and a cop and he asks us what we’re doing with all of this toilet paper, our story is…?” Kate asked for about the millionth time.

“We’re stocking up for the refugees,” we replied in annoyed unison. Kate had a point though, five teen age girls walking around Wal-Mart at ten thirty at night with about one hundred-fifty rolls of Angel Soft would appear suspicious to the trained eye. It would either appear as though we were helping out the refugees, or one of us had some major bowel issues. At least that’s how we wanted it to appear as. Tonight though, toilet paper was our ammo.

We wheeled our germ infested Wally World cart to the car, and set for home where we would plan out our attack. You see, one of the most fun stages of the common wrapping procedure is always setting up your plot. Who would handle the tall trees? The bushes? Who would get the pleasure of covering his drive way in shaving cream, and who would get the task of skittle-ing his yard? Nothing better than driving by the victim’s house the next morning, and seeing his brightly died grass.

We were completely decked out in black, and war paint (eye liner) drawn underneath our eyes. So, midnight approached, and we were ready to go.

“Shh, be quiet,” Claire whisper-yelled as we approached his house. For the sake of the night, and OUR own trees, let’s call him Bob. When we got closer I could’ve promised I saw Bob’s profile in an upstairs window. I warned the group, but we set forth anyway.

Not to toot my own horn, but an hour into it and we were doing phenomenal. His front yard looked like a scene from Narnia, covered in white. My friends had also done exceptionally well with bushes, and creaming the driveway. Not to mention we used enough skittles to tye-dye his yard completely, it would make Willy Wonka feel bland.

Suddenly, with only twenty more minutes to work, his entire house lit up. I kid you not, every single light on the inside and outside of his house shone. It was like a sudden scare in a movie, and all we could do was stand there. FROZEN. We appeared as deer caught in headlights. Finally, after what felt like forever we broke our daze and bolted it for the neighboring back yards.

“RUN!” We took off like nobody’s business. We started and couldn’t stop. Until, we met a fence, and some tiny yapping dogs. They were small, but dear Johnny they seemed vicious. We had to stop behind a neighbor’s house. We could peek around the corner of the house and see Bob’s dad, let’s call him Mr. Bob, walking around his front yard. His jaw dropped at the incredible job we’d done. Silent high fives went around our little cluster in honor of our glory from seeing his face.

So, we waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, the lights turned out in his house as Mr. Bob made his way back inside, but we knew they’d still be watching for us. The fact that our only source of transportation (Kate’s dad’s car) was parked in the center of Bob’s cove, blankly gave Bob the knowledge that we had yet to run off, and leave.

“Okay guys, we have two options. One, we sit here and wait for about another forty-five minutes, or two, we run like we’ve never ran before. What’ll it be?”
So, as you probably already guess, we took off running. Just like a scene from Forrest Gump, we broke loose of our chains, and ran. However, little did we know that the exact same time we took off from the neighbor’s house; Bob took the same approach and bolted through his front door. He had completely caught up with us, and we had no earthly idea!

We got to the car, and I was wondering why Kate’s dad wasn’t “putting the pedal to the metal” (even though I’ve never quite understood that expression) and breaking out of this neighborhood. Then, I looked to my left, and realized Bob was standing in the car door. Grinning, a cartoon worthy grin, and saying, “busted.”