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I was a total smart ass in my youth. The house I lived in was egged on occasion. Sometimes because my dad was tough on kids at the golf course, but mostly because of my smart mouth. While in high school, the house got it a few years in a row, that is, until I decided to catch the culprits.

My parents stored their cars in the garage most nights, and always when it was cold out. My car was egged the year before, so I stored it off-site for Halloween. A couple blocks from my house was the Bluffside Tavern. Schultz the owner/bartender allowed me to store my car in his garage for the evening. I stored it and walked home.

I passed out candy as we watched scary stuff on TV, stuff tat today wouldn't scare a 1st grader. Then about 10:00 I heard the familiar sounds of eggs hitting the house. I knew those sounds because some of my misspent youth was spent hurling eggs as well as cleaning them off my car and the house.

Dammit, the house was violated again, by the Avariarian Egg Bandits. I would be busy scrubbing it off the next morning. In an instant, I thought to chase the Avariarian Egg Bandits down the street, regardless of the fact that I was bare foot. The Avariarian Egg Bandits jumped into a car and sped off. I found egg cartons cast onto the side of the street, about 2 blocks from where they first jumped into their escape car. I picked them up and decided to follow-up with a personal investigation. I went home and borrowed my dad's car. He did give me a stern warning to not take any matters into my own hands. I had a habit of flying off the handle and trying to handle too much on my own.

The empty egg carton were clearly marked as being from Kwik Trip, a local convince store with stores in Wisconsin, Minnesota, and Iowa. I went to Kwik Trip on Losey Boulevard near my house. No luck, the old guy behind the counter didn't remember anything out of the ordinary. He didn't think any kids had purchased eggs that night. I'm not sure he remembered his Geritol that night!

I went to the Kwik Trip on State Road, right across the street from where the first ever Kwik Trip first started the chain. The store attendant grabbed the cartons and went to look in the cooler. She matched up the egg carton serial numbers close enough to assume they were from that stores inventory. I was ready to ask more questions.

She remembered some high school buying a whole bunch of eggs earlier in the night. She didn't know their names, but did hear a nickname for one of the Avariarian Egg Bandits (I've forgotten the nickname today). I told the gal I had a plan to ID the Avariarian Egg Bandits and asked how late she was working. I returned with my dad's car about 20 minutes later and my school yearbook from the previous year.

The clerk identified John Glendenning, Tim Hammes, and some other guy from the yearbook. I got the clerks name, and returned home with the information. My dad called the police and started the wheels of justice.

The neighborhood must have thought I got busted for something, having a police car with lights on in the driveway for 20 minutes. The police gathered info, wrote up reports, and left to go buy doughnuts. We never heard anything else that night.

My dad got the call the next day, as follow-up from the La Crosse Police Department. I heard about it in school, as the stories made their way thought their rounds.

The clerk ID'ed two kids, and they gave up the third without getting water-boarded. Tim Hammes and one of his dirtbag friends talked my old friend John Glendenning into the whole mess. The third guy, whose names escapes me was in a little more trouble, was 18.

The police and the DA wanted to tread carefully with equitable punishment even though the 18 year-old could have been handed a lot more punishment being an adult. I don't remember all the details, but there was some fines and community service for all three.

I threatened Tim Hammes in school for encouraging my old friend John to become a worthless dirtbag like he was. A teacher saw me throwing him up against some lockers, but a buddy of mine diverted the teachers attention whilst I finished my diatribe at the dirtbag.

My lecture didn't help, because Tim spent the rest of his high school days getting John stoned before, during, and after school. I think they've all gotten cleaned up today, but that dirtbag Hammes tried to push my buttons at our 20th class reunion.

The only teachable moment from this story is that you remember to cover your tracks better, and don't leave identifiable material behind. Go out and have a great Halloween, and if you generate any good stories send them to Irrational Diversions!

The most devious, hilarious Halloween prank stories ever told (from Zug).

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