Burning Bag of Cow Cookies

You always hear about kids that grow up in a small town getting bored because there is nothing to do and they end up trying to find things to entertain themselves. And usually that entertainment leads to getting themselves in trouble.

I grew up in a small town but I never felt we got ourselves in trouble because we were bored. I like to think we got ourselves in trouble because we were well, simply creative.

Either way, we often found our creative minds leading us astray and getting us into trouble but it also led us to a ton of fun along the way.

As was the night that once again found Kent, Jim and myself driving around town looking for ways to have a good time. But as the saying goes, when you have one teenage boy you have one brain, when you two teenage boys, you have half a brain, and when you have three you end up with a third of a brain. That seemed to describe us to a tee.

So there the three of us were driving around town in Kent’s Dodge Dart with only a third of a brain working when the ideal came to mind.

I am not sure who to blame or as we like to look at it, who to give credit to but one of us three geniuses came up with the idea of the Burning Bag of Crap. Not an original idea I must say. Since the invention of fire teenage boys have probably been putting bags of burning crap on doorsteps. You have heard the phrase that dates back to AD 64, “Nero played the fiddle while Rome burned” but you never heard how the fire got started. Well, I have my thoughts on that.

I am guessing you know the idea behind the burning bag of crap but if not this is it. You get a bag of manure, cow or horse or any other large farm animal will do. Then under the cloak of darkness you take the bag of goodies and place it on the porch right in front of the door. Then you light the bag with a match and then ring the doorbell and then run like hell. When the victim answers the door and sees the burning bag they immediately start stomping on the bag to put the fire out. Thus stepping in cow crap and everyone gets a big laugh out of it. Well, maybe the guy standing there ankle deep in cow crap doesn’t laugh that hard.

So now that we had decided on what we were going to do the next step was putting our plan into action.

Step one. Round up the needed supplies.

We made a quick stop to pick up some grocery bags at the local Foodtown Grocery Store, the place of Jim’s employment and also the provider of most of the supplies for our pranks such as eggs, tomatoes, etc. We also grabbed a book of matches before we headed out to get the “main” ingredient for this night of fun.

To get cow crap you have to find cows so we headed out of town to see if we could find any. One of the great things about growing up in a small town is that the countryside is not far from the city so needed props like cow turds are easily accessible.

After a short drive out of town we were able to find the needed supplies. Now came the first of many mistakes made by us this unforgettable night. We had the grocery bag, the matches, and now we had spotted a fresh cow patty but we didn’t have anything to scoop the patty into the bag. Since the phrase, “Come on you sissy, use your hands” didn’t persuade Kent to do the manly thing we decided to use a tire iron. (Changing the next flat tire had to be fun.)

After a little scooping and probably his share of gagging Kent finally bagged up plenty of the pungent nuggets. Why was Kent chosen to be to the scooper? Hey, Jim held the flashlight, and I had to, well, make sure a cow didn’t attack as they are so prone to do. So we each had our jobs to perform.

Step two. Find a victim.

To this day we are not sure why Wade Stefka’s house was picked. We liked Wade. We all played football together and had been friends for quite a while and we all admired Wade for his fly eating abilities. As I mentioned earlier we made several mistakes in our little crap burning shenanigan and as it turned out picking Wade’s house for our prank was an almost fatal mistake.

The Stefka house was in the center of town and it sat in the middle of the block on one of the main roads. It was the second house from the corner and all the front lawns on the block were elevated above the sidewalk by about three feet. So the victim was picked and like the Clutter family in the book, In Cold Blood the Stefka’s had no idea what was coming their way. And we had no idea what was coming our way either.

Step three. The plan of attack.

The plan was simple. Park the car down the street, get out, and then carry the bag of goodies to the front porch, light the bag, ring the door bell, run to a safe distance and watch the fun. And then laugh about it for years to come. But, it didn’t quite go like we planned it.

And this is when the mistakes stated pilling up really quick. First of all we parked the car WAY too close to the scene of the crime. Since earlier Jim and I had the easy job of keeping the eye out for attacking cows and flashlight holding we got the job of carrying the bag to the porch. As we made our way giggling and chuckling to the porch an extreme flaw in the plan occurred.

With this being our first time to try to pull this off we really weren’t sure of the burning time of the paper bag. So unfortunately for us we gave Kent the “light it up” command way too far from the front porch. Hey, did you know that paper grocery bags are highly flammable? We didn’t either. So about 2 seconds after Kent put the match to it, the bag was a towering inferno of fire and we still had about 20 feet to go to get to the door. Now, you might be setting there and thinking, “Hey dummies, drop the bag and leave.” Well folks, we may be dumb but we are not quitters!

So there we were, Jim holding one side of the bag and me holding the other trying to run without fanning the flames back in our faces but quickly enough so the bag didn’t burn down to our hands. Trying to keep this story clean enough for youngsters I won’t put in the words that flowed from our mouths as we made those last few steps to the front door.

We finally made it close enough to door to drop the now blazing bag of bull*&^. As it hit the porch we pounded on the front door and then ran like crazy. We safely made it to the corner just in time to turn around to see the front door open. By now the bag was fully engulfed in flames so with the porch lit up like daylight we could easily see Wade’s dad step out of the house and kick the bag. Unfortunately for Mr. Stefka the bag had been burning for a while so when he kicked the bag it came apart and sparks and burning embers flew into the house. But thankfully for everyone involved neither the house nor Wade’s dad caught on fire.

At this point the three of us took off on foot to a safer distance. After a few minutes we figured we were safe enough to stop running so we could take in the recent events and laugh our butts off. As our laughter started to die down we finally realized we had made one more serious mistake.

The car was parked down the street and just around the corner from the crime scene. So we thought we would give it a little more time before returning to retrieve the car.

I know you are setting there thinking holy crap how much were these guys drinking? Not a drop. I wish we had. I wish we could blame our stupidity on the influence of alcohol but this was all just us being us.

We were in Kent’s car but for some reason Jim and I agreed to sneak back to get the car so we slowly made our way back to the car. All was quiet as we approached the car. Jim quickly jumped into the passenger’s seat and I took the position behind the wheel and we both took one more moment to consider the events of the evening and to allow ourselves another chuckle or two and then proceeded to start the car. Then all hell broke loose!!!

We both looked up just in time to see Wade’s dad running out of the shadows from neighbor’s backyard. He looked huge at a distance of 20 yards and he was getting bigger by the second. I turned the key and it started right up and I threw it into drive and floored it. Nothing. The motor simply died. Not sure if the gas tank was empty or not but I was pretty sure my pants were about to become full!!

Mr. Stefka arrived at the car on my side just as I was about to try to start it again. But now being able to look eye to eye with our attacker I decided starting the car was not a good move. I know, I finally had a good idea. At this time Jim opened the passenger door and thought about making a run for it but for my sake I am glad he changed his mind.

Not only was Mr. Stefka a big guy but I suddenly noticed he was carrying what looked like a tree that had been pulled from the ground. We were caught and there was no way out of this. So we were marched back to the front porch where the bag of poop was now smoldering.

Again to keep this clean I won’t put in all the words that Mr. Stefka used but let’s just say he was upset with us. As Jim and I stood on the porch Wade was called to the front door to identify the criminals. Wade arrived at the front porch dressed in his cowboy pajamas and carrying a flashlight. He simply told his dad he knew us and then slowly turned and walked away leaving our lives in his father’s hands. Wade’s dad proceeded to chew our butts out royally but then thankfully decided to spare our lives.

He did make us clean up our mess. And if you thought a bag of bull stuff smells bad you should smell a bag of burnt bull stuff.

Not the kind of night we expected but definitely a night to remember!!