Fast forward 5 months, to Thanksgiving night 2005.
This was THE plan. The plan to replace all previous failures. It was a 2-phase attack. On the night mission we would plant the ladder, and the evening after we would climb the pipes.
It turned out to be everything the first plan wasn't.
Conscripted for the night mission were David and James, who dressed as inconspicuously as possible due to the sensitivity of our mission.
The ladder. In all its laddery goodness.
Its worth mentioning that this night was one of the coldest nights of the whole year.
It was a good night.
as if to make it 100% clear, yes, we were indeedly drinking throughout this whole mission.
and so, like a demented Abbey Road impression, we strode through Shrewsbury, carrying the ladder on our backs that would later carry us to victory.
I have no idea what we would have said to anyone who confronted us. There was no alibi.
Along the way we decided to stop at James' house, for the dual purpose of taking a quick sit down break, and the opportunity to wet our whistle.
The unforeseen factor, which turned out to be maybe a more worthwhile experience than the whole damned Pipes Adventure, was the appearance of:
Arnie the Guinea Pig
This is Arnie the Guinea Pig. Owned by Ayana, living in the middle of James' room for whatever reason, trapped in an aquarium filled with feces and urine-soaked toilet paper.
To this day I still don't know why Ayana's guinea pig was in James' room. It didn't make sense at the time, but it didn't need to make sense. It was a Guinea Pig. Among the fattest most wretched creatures man has yet to domesticate.
Does anyone know where Guinea pigs originated? Does anyone actually care? Really?
Well then: They are from South America, bred to eat as much as possible and get as fat as possible. They serve two roles in the typical Chilean household: as the garbage disposal and as a future meal. Guinea Pigs are a delicacy in many parts of this world.
Guinea pigs are noisy stupid things, about as smart as lobsters, and about as responsive as a pile of trash. Every time I see Ayana, I tell her to cook and eat Arnie, and then threaten to do so myself.
I want to eat Arnie with rice, beans, and Cholula hot sauce.
Being the geniuses we are and with the ethanol taking its course, we could do nothing else but let Arnie out of its aquarium, laughing and shrieking as he scampered frantically around James' room.
We then started to throw trash at it, and marvel at the freakishness of the Guinea Pig species.
I enjoyed watching Arnie nibble at the rind of cantaloupe, then fearfully cower in the corner of the room whenever any of us approached, his rolling eyeballs filled with terror.
At some point we found my then-favorite shirt piled in a corner of James' bedroom, giving the night an extra dimension of victory.
The pirate patch is legitimate on a number of levels:
Catching the rodent was a challenge that probably traumatized the thing for life.
We were all hungry by the end of it all. Hungry for Arnie.
Back in your home, you happy critter, you.
and back on the road we go, allowing the Arnie experience to revert into a sick, twisted, dream-like memory.
At night, the Masonic Gardens is a very eerie place to be. Its the type of place where you aren't sure if its the the 2000s, the 1970s, or the 1930s.
If that makes the least bit of sense.
The view of our goal: the base of the ladder, 30 feet from the ground.
There's only one way to get a ladder over a barbed wire fence, and that's by throwing it over.
I do believe this is the #1 most incriminating picture of the whole lot.
Disclaimer: all these photos are photoshopped, no laws were ever broken, this article is all fiction, etc etc.
Right. And now a picture of James gleefully holding the fate of David's backside in his hands.
Oh the fun we have.
And finally... David urinating in the center-most intersection of Shrewsbury.
Continue to part 3