I was about twelve to fifteen at the time. My cousin Bobby and I used to steal my grandmother’s boxes of matches and light things on fire between her house and her neighbor’s house.
Well, there was an old man next door. You could hear these sounds come up from his basement. You’d hear hammering, sometimes a little bit of screaming. We weren’t really too sure what it was.
One day, I can’t remember what the circumstance was, but we were causing some trouble between the houses when we heard some of those sounds again. We figured, You know what? This guy is up to something. We’re gonna show him that what he’s doing, whatever it is, is wrong.
He had this garage in the back of his yard and he kept bottles of beer back there. So we went back to his garage and we took out some of the beer bottles. We popped the caps off and dumped them out. We pissed in about five of those bottles and put the caps back on.
I’d like to think that he drank them himself, but as the years went by, I can’t help but think maybe one of those bottles went to someone who didn’t deserve it.