Well, first we went to Taco Bell. And it was awesome- there were like four drunk girls there. One of ‘em stumbled towards me, and was all, “Andrew, is that you?” And of course I egged her on, so I was like, “Yeah.” And then, right before they got to the window, I grabbed like ten packets of sauce and hit the gas. Pretty sure she was yellin’ after us.
So then we went to Wally World, and the woman at the counter was this huge black woman- named like Jasmine. “What are you up to tonight, honey?” Syrupy voice, you know? “Hope you fine young gents ain’t gettin’ in any trouble.” She was right to be suspicious, though. We were buyin’ like 100 rolls of Scott- and that shit is heavy, for TP. Great for throwing. 1000 squares. Hells to the yes.
So we run by John’s house, drop off our stuff, get in gear. We were cruisin’ black, man. Wicked sweet, toboggans and everything. Jerry had those damn tights on. Hilarious. We were all in Stan’s Tahoe- parked it a quarter mile away, you know- headed for the house.
___ And damn, was that a perfect house. Trees everywhere, nary a light in sight. Of course, we went to town on that shit. Me ‘n’ Josh, we were up in the trees tanglin’ shit up. We spent like an hour. Only one scare- someone’s phone went off, and Sandy yelled “Car!” We shut him up pretty quick. Didn’t think anyone heard us. 15 minutes later, we’re applyin’ all the finishing touches- mailbox, burdhouse- Sandy jogs over to Stan’s car to grab his camera. Evidence of a job well done, you understand.
___ Josh
TO BE CONTINUED