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| Mmm, raspberries. |
Growing up, there was a woman in our neighborhood whose self-appointed duty was to make life miserable for anyone younger than 18. She was a rumor-monger and loved to pass on gossipy bits to anyone who would listen regardless of how unlikely the rumors were. If she caught you doorbell-ditching her house, she would make you come pull weeds out of her garden. Apparently she didn't realize that by affixing a punishment she drew many more ditching attempts because now there was an actual thrill involved - to avoid the danger of being caught. Gordon and Seth and I came up with the world's greatest doorbell ditching method and we used it on her numerous times without repercussion. We each took a large crab-apple from a nearby tree and threw them one after another. The crab-apples arrived at her door within a fraction of a second of each other and gave the appearance of someone knocking on the door. But now we had the advantage of already being 50 feet away from the door, providing us additional valuable seconds in our escape. We did this at every opportunity.
One day I was at home alone and the phone rang. When I answered, it was this woman. She asked to speak to my mother. I told her she was not home. She called back very soon thereafter and asked to speak to my mother again. I told her she still wasn't home and I didn't know when she would be back. Within ten minutes, she called back again. I told her that no, my mother STILL wasn't home and she asked me to take a message. She asked me to tell my mother that she had seen Gordon behind Storehouse Market throwing dirt clods at the fence. I nodded to myself. Dirt clods. At an old wooden fence. Crisis. It's really no wonder she was desperate to get through to my mother. I hung up after assuring her that I would indeed pass along the vital information. Which I did not.
Aiding and abetting, it's what I do.
