Flinging Goo

When I was a kid, my best friend was a guy named John (we lived across the street from one another). John and I got along very well, but we occasionally butted heads sometimes. When we did, things usually got out of hand, because we are both stubborn as hell. One morning we were headed off to school, when we found a pile of goo. I’d like to tell you what the goo was, but I can’t. We had no idea what the goo was. All we knew was that there was some goo on some broken boards. The stuff was greenish white, very thick, but still liquid enough to flow.

Being kids, we decided to mess with the goo. We each grabbed a stick, and poked the goo, pulling up large blobs on the ends of our sticks. We decided that it would be fun to throw the goo, so we ended up throwing it at a nearby tree. After a few tries, the tree got boring, so I decided to throw it at John. I did, and got him a good one on the front of his coat. Naturally, he decided to get me back, and whipped a chunk of goo at me.

As a kid, I was fast – damned fast. Very few people could catch me. My speed was the only thing that kept me safe from bigger kids with a desire to pummel me for my sarcastic comments. So when John chucked his goo, I ran off, and easily evaded the UFG (Unidentified Flying Goo). This pissed John off, so he got some more goo and kept chucking it at me. And he kept missing. The more  he missed, the angrier he got; there was just no way he was going to allow me to get away with getting him if he couldn’t get me back.

We weren’t very far from home yet – about 20 yards or so – so he went back home and went inside. I came back too, assuming he was just cleaning off his coat and would be back out soon. He came out surprisingly quickly – and holding a carton of eggs. I was immediately wary, assuming he was going to whip them at me. As it turns out, I was not his target.

His first egg smashed off the front window of my house. Turns out, if he couldn’t get me back by hitting me with goo, he was willing to settle for egging my house. I was immediately pissed off – the goo thing was between us, and it wasn’t fair for him to involve our innocent houses. Now, if I had possessed any fucking sense whatsoever, I just would have turned around and gone to school. John would have felt better, and dropped his desires for goo revenge, and he would also get in trouble later that night for egging my house.

Lacking that degree of common sense, I went inside of my house, grabbed a dozen eggs, and came back outside. We looked at each other from our porches, like two gunfighters trying to decide if the other guy was going to draw. I let fly, and cracked an egg off his house. Right off his porch, as a matter of fact, directly overtop of John. In the process, he was hit with some shell fragments and – you guessed it – some egg goo.

That was it. We each chucked our entire dozen eggs at the other guy’s house, covering the front in egg goo. Eventually we ran out of eggs, and decided that we had each had enough, and went to school. When we came back home, we had each quite forgotten about the egging incident. We were both dismayed to find out that our parents knew about the egging, having been put in the know by John’s younger sister.

So we each spent the next hour with a bucket of soapy water, cleaning off encrusted egg guts from the front of our houses. I didn’t mind too much, because I knew deep inside that I had won – we both threw eggs, we were both punished by having to clean the eggs, but only John got goo on his coat.