TPing Your Friend’s House in Your 30s

Move via: @jacktheisen1 Might get back in the game… The rush I got TPing the Otley’s yard when I was a youngin’ was unmatched: Felt alive, felt like I could take on the world, felt like nothing could stop me. Even after experiencing such a euphoric rush I didn’t touch the TP for years. (Had to save the arm for ball ya know.) I quit the game and the game quit me. That was until I got word my buddy’s house got TP’d by a bunch of underclassmen. I knew a counter strike would occur and practiced my, “Gotta sit this one out” speech. (Couldn’t risk the shoulder tweak. “Ball was gonna get me out of this town.” I’d say.) The time had come, I was approached by my friend at the end of 5th period anatomy. Said he had good men on standby, said he could use one more. Preferably someone with a strong enough arm to carry the tall Sugar Maple that grew beside our target’s home. In that moment I knew ball would have to take a back seat to pride, camaraderie, revenge.

That night we rained TP all over Tim Hughes’ yard. We were quick, silent, surgical. Afterwards we drank soda pops and smoked cigarettes on our local ball field. Johnny No Thumbs played us songs and we sang along…. we sang along.

Miss those times. But hell, with this Move I can live em’ again.

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