Squirting

Now that I am an adult, M.O.M. and I often share ideas on Experiments in Devious Conducts of Humor. I’m thankful that I’ve developed the same spontaneity and humor that she has. Time spent together with her and Kate is always filled with moments of uncontrollable laughter.

M.O.M. had been having a bad day so I suggested we go for a little evening drive, something that all of us have always enjoyed immensely. It was a lovely summer evening, not too hot or humid, so it was perfect for a drive with the windows open. My son, Max was along for the ride, and so there was no turning back when M.O.M. expressed her desire for a root beer float.

I pulled into the Sonic and we ordered the floats and a bag of French fries. When the waitress bought out the bag, we had a good laugh as the entire top of the bag was full of packets of ketchup. There had to have been 40 of those little packets in there.

M.O.M. commented on what a lovely evening it was. And then our conversation took a turn and went something like this;

M.O.M.: “What a beautiful night!”

Me: “Yes, a perfect night for…”

M.O.M.: “Squirting!”

Max: “What is squirting?”

M.O.M. and I exchanged a look, both of us trying to think up an explanation for the made up activity. We had to take our cues from each other. I started, “Well, squirting is when you take packets of ketchup and you drive by someone’s house and… “

M.O.M. cut in finishing my sentence “and you toss them out the window and scream like this ‘EEEIIIAAAAAAH’*, and try not to be seen! It’s kind of like TPing someone’s house.”

*I need to explain that sound here. We all feel that it quite honestly should be trademarked, this bizarre sound M.O.M. emits. It always comes unexpectedly and it has been used to get Max's attention when he is acting up and not listening, to irritate dad when M.O.M. is feeling in the mood for it, and to scare the living crap out of random pedestrians as we drive by. It sounds a bit like what you will hear below, only slightly higher pitched.  

We silently giggled to each other and I watched through the rearview mirror as Max excitedly asked us, “Can we go squirting!?”

With those words, it became a challenge! We looked at each other and played it off with a shrug. M.O.M. asked me “Who should we squirt?”

I thought for a moment, “How about Nelly?” We erupted into giggles. Even after all these years, she is still a favored target.

Max was nervous and excited as we drove across town toward Nelly's house. He had a hard time controlling his giggles and yet at the same time he felt like he was on the verge of becoming some kind of criminal. As we turned onto Nelly's street in the darkness, and his anxiety got the better of him and he said "I can't do it!"

M.O.M. came to the rescue with a compromise, "You scream, and I'll throw!"

I slowed down a few houses away from Nelly's and M.O.M. armed herself with a fist full of ketchup packets. Max hunched down in the seat and I imagine if anyone had been looking at the passenger window of the car as we drove by, he would have looked like Kilroy. He was full of nervous giggles.

M.O.M. counted down, "Ready, Max? 3...2...1...NOW!" She chucked about six packets of ketchup out of the window and onto the end of Nelly's driveway. Max hit his mark perfectly and shrieked. We drove off laughing like loons a about something as stupid as a couple of condiment packets.

The story doesn't end there. We laughed about it for a few more weeks and eventually forgot about it, then one night Max asked "Can we go squirting again?" We thought long and hard about it before we decided, why not! We questioned if we should go back to Nelly's house or if we should come up with someone else. We opted for our safe bet of Nelly once again.

We still had about 30 of those ketchup packets left, but we decided we should change things up if we were going to be progressive, so we took along a handful of Taco Bell sauce packets and took another drive to Nelly's house. Max was getting a little more into it this time and asked if he could toss, but we told him it probably wouldn't be a good idea. This time we also took Kate with us.

There isn't much to tell about that particular trip, it was pretty uneventful. Max reminded me last night that we stopped for burgers beforehand, most likely with the intention of alternate ammunition. On the way home we laughed like crazy and made plans to squirt again in a couple of weeks.

We decided to up the ante for the next round and we armed ourselves with stale hot dog buns. This time we got a little more brazen and drove by again to take another look at the bun laying at the end of their driveway. We contemplated a lot about what they must think was going on as they got up in the morning and upon going out to fetch their paper found progressively larger food stuffs at the end of their driveway.

Three week later, we took it to the next level, we decided it was a good night for squirting so we tried to figure out what could possibly be better than the hot dog bun. I suggested, "How about a hot dog?" Everyone thought it was an excellent idea, but lacking a hot dog, I needed to find a quick alternative. We had not sunk so low in our debauchery that I would resort to purchasing an entire package of hot dogs for the prank. So instead I dug around in the dredges of my refrigerator and found an old Eckrich sausage that was past its expiration date. It was one of those big ones that curl into a circle. I unpackaged it at home and rinsed it off so it wouldn't get any sausage juice in my car and put it in a plain brown bag.

There was some debate about whether we should attempt to set it on fire on their door step because it so closely resembled dung. But in the end we tossed it out the window and watched it fall to the asphault of their driveway with a plop. There is no way to describe the hysterical laughter that erupted from the vehicle as we saw the sausage laying at the end of their driveway. We actually drove past it two more times just to see it.

Our intention was to continue the squirting a few more weeks adding more components like a bag of chip, a drink, etc., and in the end set up a table cloth and picnic basket at the end of the driveway for the ultimate ending to an ongoing prank. The plans were set in motion but poor Max made sure that wasn't going to happen.

It was one of the rare times that Nelly was talking to us, and she was over at M.O.M.'s house visiting. I was at work and M.O.M. was watching Max. I think the guilt got to him either that or he couldn't contain his cleverness any longer. Max blurted "Did you happen to notice a sausage at the end of your driveway? Yeah we did that." His attempt at being nonchalant was a total failure. M.O.M. was completely aghast and momentarily speechless.

Nelly didn't react much at the time. She gave a little laugh, but M.O.M. could tell she didn't find it very amusing; my niece on the other hand, thought it was hysterical and said she thought the toilet paper running from the sausage to the garage door was a nice touch...

Um, wait, what? Toilet paper? We didn't do that! We wished we'd thought of it, but it wasn't our idea! Someone was cashing in on our prank! The nerve!!