It Takes Warm Water and Vinegar

I was talking with James recently, reminiscing about some of our best tales.  He told me about another risky evening, during his hoodlum period of last year.  It was in the spring with a couple mutual friends. Thankfully I wasn't involved in this act of misconduct, but it did sound exciting so that's why it is featured here.

It only happened a month or so after returning from his famous Cuba trip with Pierce.  The two of them were at it again, along with a friend Geoff, around midnight in James' neighbourhood.  There had been six boys to start, but their separate egging activities had split them up. With the last three eggs in hand, Geoff and Pierce headed down a side street while James kept watch out on the well-lit main road, close to home.  After not too long, Pierce and Geoff came up the side street at a light jog and laughing, having just hit the bay window of a poor neighbour. Then the three continued up the main road until they were at a safe distance.  By chance and paranoia,  James looked back to the mouth of the side street while Pierce and Geoff had moved on ahead.

As if on cue, out of the blackness of the side road and into the exposure of the steet lights, a bald man -presumably in his low 30s- sprinted towards James with a vengeful, preying manner.  His eyes held such a fury that eggs hitting his front window could not be the only problem in his life. 

James did not do what you would expect a young hooligan to do in this situation. Instead, inexplicably, he stood his ground, shrugged, and innocently uttered the words "wasn't me" while shaking his head. The pursuer, ten meters away from James, suddenly changed his trajectory to Pierce and Geoff further up the main street.  They had not heard the man yet, and once James was obviously no longer the target, he yelled "Run Pierce!".  Surprised at the success of his defence mechanism, and with his heart in his throat, James turned on his heels and sprinted down his own side road only hoping to loop back to his friends soon.

Meanwhile (now from Pierce's eyes), without looking back, he and Geoff, after hearing James' warning, sprinted in terror.  The man was right behind them but prey runs faster than predator.  Being young also had its benefits as the the two took off up the main street and around the corner of another side road.  They spread out, still within sight of each other, and the man decided to continue to pursue Geoff.  He was apparently trying to communicate with the two of them, pleading for them to stop and offering some kind of civilized reaction, using the words "just want to talk".  Fat chance as minutes before he was shouting "Get back here you f@#&ers!" Geoff adapted a running pattern that involved zig-zagging from one side of the road to another in hope to out-swerve the man.  At one point he was almost within arms reach before backing off.
I'm guessing he gave up his hunt for the better part of a minute before Pierce or Geoff realized. The two paired up once again, and fled to the back yard of the nearest property.  They crouched beside a shed, still rigid with panic.  Pierce grabbed a nearby shovel before Geoff pointed out the ridiculousness of that plan.  They waited a while longer before sneaking back onto the road.
That is where, fortunately, James had finished his long loop from his side road to meet up with them.
There was no time to waste because they now worried the man was out on the streets in his car.  That was the end of that night and the end of their shenanigans for a long time.

I'll end with a quotation from the great film Hot Rod:  "Play the victim and you shall be the victim."

You're welcome,

B.F. Greenough, aka,
Chief Hanky, Running Rascal