A poem about those teenage boys who bombed their high school with eggs. |
Two teenage boys, aged fifteen and sixteen, were up for some fun, not trying to be mean. The father of one owned a small, two-seat airplane, which he flew from his private airstrip as its main landing place. The one boy had learned how to fly, but no pilot’s license had he…small detail. Why should that stop their fun? They took off and flew in the predawn hours low over town. Who knew that panic would ensue? The top floors of the hotel were evacuated as a precaution, for who could tell why a plane was circling overhead – terrorists maybe! The boys then flew over their high school. Let’s see – on their final day of class before summer vacation, how about bombing the school with eggs in celebration. They dropped a bucket of eggs … which landed on the roof. No one even knew what they’d done, for they had no proof. To get credit for their deed, they proudly told their friends. Word got out. Now the law says they must make amends. They were arrested on charges of “risking a catastrophe, reckless endangerment, criminal mischief and conspiracy.” In a time now past, their stupid prank would have fallen under “boys will be boys.” 9/11 made those days golden. Please check out my ten books: http://www.amazon.com/Jr.-Harry-E.-Gilleland/e/B004SVLY02/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0 |