Confetti Bandit Strikes Again

In the Grassy Knoll Institutes ongoing battle against Catholic nuns of the 1960’s, I came up with yet another ingenious plan to drive the nuns crazy. It was a simple stunt with no harm ever coming to any child, animal or property, but plenty of aggravation for the nuns. After all, fair is fair and the nuns needed a little dose to bring the score even.

My plan was simple, the execution quick, and the devastation monumental. The delivery method still posed a problem for I needed to be alone to deliver the package. I needed to think this out for I feared if any witnesses were present; the nuns would surely be able to squeeze that information from the spineless witness.

So I started mapping out the movements of the nuns each day and the daily lunch and recess period. I soon found a pattern I could use. When we finished our lunch, we then went out on the playground for 20 minutes. Child after child would file out one by one as they finished. For the first five minutes of lunch, when all of us were still eating, the nun in charge would get up, excuse herself, and then go and do nun things for 30 minutes while we ate.

I would get up when a few kids were left and instead of going outside, I would sneak down the hallway and into the bathroom. I would stay there for a couple of minutes and then back track back to my room. I would walk by casually and if no one was left in the room, I would re-enter the room and quickly go to my notebook and grab a few pieces of standard notebook paper making ever sure they were completely blank so as not to leave any incriminating evidence behind. I would then tear the paper into tiny little pieces and drop them into the overhead heater and air vents.

If perchance the motor was running pumping out air or heat during lunch, I would abort the mission and go outside. But, on that particular day, the vent motor was off, I shoved several sheets of confetti sized paper down in the four vents. The vents were screened so you couldn’t get your fingers stuck and also hid the paper from view.

Now, let me describe the vents for you. Each classroom had one wall that had our lockers on the bottom and very tall windows reaching the ceiling on top. There was a shelf alongside the entire wall about five feet tall. The windows were recessed so if anyone felt the urge to jump out, they would have to climb up the wall, and stand on the ledge, and then open the windows to climb out. This was also the area that housed the room heater and air circulator. You could not see down the vents as the screens obscured the view and it was pretty dark down there.

OK, back to the story. I quickly shoved the paper down the vents and then quickly exited the room and blended into the crowd with the rest of the kids on the playground. Then, all I had to do was wait. The recess bell rang and all the kids lined up in single file according to classroom and proceeded to file inside the school in an orderly fashion not saying a word. Wait. All I had to do was wait. And to my surprise, the wait would be mere minutes.

The nun in charge, feeling a chill, walked over to the heater and turned the switch on. My plan was implemented in a moment. The heater churned to life and in an instant tiny confetti paper shot out and up scaring the hell out of the nun. The nun actually gasped and jumped back as if the confetti was stinging her. The entire class roared with laughter for almost a minute until the nun got her wits about her and turned off the switch to the heater. My plan had worked perfectly and only later would I realize that there was an added bonus.

As all nun investigations go, this one would be long and drawn out making the Spanish inquisition seem like a short movie at the Caans film festival. The janitor was summoned to clean out the heater and examine any remaining evidence. Which, by the mess on the floor, was minimal at best. The nuns started out tough, claiming that after examining all the evidence, they knew the child responsible. The nuns were staring directly at me as they spoke in unison. Damn that nun radar. But I was safe. There were no witnesses, no evidence to link me, I was in the clear baby.

The nuns gave us one last chance to fess up before they called the parents for the one responsible. No one fussed up. No one dared. Silence from the kids and the nuns. After five more minutes of silence, and the bonus that no lessons were being taught in class and finally the nuns spoke again. A firm speech that God saw the child that did this terrible thing and it was the Catholic thing to do to confess their sin. No freakin way baby.

Another nun appeared in the room, now there were three of them, almost a gaggle, and they quickly huddled and then called alphabetically one by one each child out into the hallway to interrogate them. The door slammed as two nuns were now in the hall and one nun stayed to observe our mannerisms. I heard yelling, big time yelling and ranting about heart attacks, Jesus, mortal sin, and other intimidation tactics used on second graders of Catholic school.

My name was called sixth, and the nuns really tried to brow beat me. I simply took the tirades in stride knowing I had beaten the nuns this time. I was returned to my seat unscathed but a little hard of hearing. Each child had a turn with the dueling nuns but still no one confessed.

Frustrated, the nuns gave up but continued their inquisition for three days till finally they announced that even though they knew who the culprit was, they were not going to single him/her out. They were going to make the culprit have to live with the terrible mortal sin on their soul until they confessed it to the priest in confession on Friday.

So, that was their ploy, their way of extracting information. Let the priests do the dirty work and then sing like stool pigeons to the nuns of the crimes we confessed. No way was I going to fess this one up even knowing that I was endangering my mortal soul and if perchance I would die, I would go straight to hell. I would have to be careful playing outside until I could visit a neighboring church and go to confession there so as not to divulge my identity. I carried that sin on my soul for two weeks. Damn the nuns to hell.

The confetti bandit struck several more times that year and the nuns never did catch me on this one. After I graduated from grade school and in the safe harbor of high school, I sent the nuns a letter from the confetti bandit letting them know that I was still on the loose and that some day I would pass down my knowledge to my children and that the bandit would be reborn.

I knew the nuns would be ready...

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LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

Altar Boys Secret Society

The Altar Boys Secret Society Part I

I had survived the Flute-O-Phone Spanish Nunquistion as not a single student cracked under the intense pressure and squealed on me, or themselves for that matter. Life was getting good. Time to venture into new avenues.

My buddy told me about a pretty good gig that would allow me to get out of school for hours at a time. Get out of school!!! That's all I needed to hear. He told me all I had to do was sign up to be an Altar boy. Anything to get out of harms way of the nun's wrath I thought.

Note to all non Catholics out there reading. An Altar boy was an assistant to the priest when he was saying mass. The Altar boy's duties ranged from holding the cross and leading the procession to bringing up the water and wine to the priest as he proceeded to move through the mass. Basically, the Altar boy was an indentured servant.

Ok, back to the story. Amazingly, it was easy to join the altar boys. There were no tests to take. No secret handshakes to learn and no secret password to get into the back of the church where everyone that is in the loop knows that is where all the action is.

That same day during my lunch break I went to see Father Iatti to inform him that he had a new recruit for the Altar boy army. Past the principles office I glided and down the steps to the Sacristy where Father Iatti's office was. Tapping ever so gently on the office door I entered the office slowly, (My spider senses were tingling) nervously looking about preparing myself to be yelled at. You see, a Catholic student never willingly went to see the priests.

The children were sent there by the nuns for more severe punishment apparently only available for the priests to inflict. So, this was a very unusual circumstance, especially for me, walking in to the office of my own free will instead of being dragged there by the nuns. This time I wanted to use my powers for good instead of evil and the priest would immediately sense this.

In reality, that didn't happen. Instead, Father Iatti came into the office, saw me sitting in the chair, and began to rant and rave at me yelling something about calling my mother and that I was in big trouble this time. He then went into his native tongue, which was Italian, and blurted out several more sentences before finally asking me what I had to say for myself. I almost confessed to whatever he was ranting about. He then said, "Well, I'm waiting. Why are you here?" I told him that I wanted to become an Altar boy and was ready to sign up and help the church. I figured that revelation would humble him a bit, quiet him down just a little after yelling at me for no reason at all. I could also see two prominent veins that appeared on his forehead and if perchance they somehow met, I imagined his head would explode. Yes, I know it would be cool to see, and I had a front row seat, but it would be messy but then I would not be inducted into the altar boy guild, or society, or club, whatever.

Fact was, I was offering my services to the church, to serve God, to help him. I waited for the apology but never got it. Instead, Father Iatti became a police inspector and began interrogating me like I was a criminal. Crimony, all I wanted to do was join the Altar boys. This was turning out to be more bother than I expected.

My answers did not satisfy Father Iatti and he continued the brow beating. Ten more minutes went by and still I was not inducted into the Altar boy guild and now my entire recess lunch break was over. What a gip. Not only did I waste my lunchtime, I was getting a lecture and the once over for doing absolutely nothing this time. Then it dawned on me. I was now missing class as the students entered the school in single file from the playground completely silent not daring to utter a peep while in line. This was OK. Let Father Iatti rant and rave at me. It wasn't like I wasn't used to it by now. Four years so far in Catholic school had hardened my nerves and resolve. Nothing could penetrate the fortress.

Then, like a bad dream, Father Iatti stopped his tirade and told me to return to class and that we would discuss this matter further during tomorrows lunch break. This was unacceptable. I had already wasted one recess period and I wasn't about to waste another. I had to move quickly before this got more out of hand then it was. I slowly got up out of my chair, sighed lowly and announced that maybe I wasn't cut out to be an Altar boy after all. Even though both of my older brothers were, maybe I wasn't good enough. I then turned to the door averting my eyes from Father Iatti and began to leave.

Then it happened. Father spoke. He said in a very low tone that there was an Altar boy meeting Friday morning right before first period and that I was invited to attend. He said the meeting was to discuss the Altar boys duties and to introduce several new members of which I was now one. I said thanks and ran out the door and hurried to class so as to not be late and risk the wrath of the nuns for being tardy.

I was in. A made man. An Altar boy. A license to skip school virtually almost every day. Life was good. I couldn't wait for Friday.

But of course, there was a glitch. A glitch that I didn't consider. Thinking only about being able to miss school while serving early morning mass each weekday, I failed to realize that I would also be responsible for serving mass on Saturdays and Sundays. And since I was the rookie, I would be getting the lousy very early morning mass schedules on the weekends. Now this sucked but the wheels were already in progress and Friday was approaching quickly.

I needed a plan. But that is another Altar boy story, another legend. Stay tuned for the update.

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LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

God Is All Powerful

I had won my first battle with the Catholic Nuns when out of fear and further reprisals the nun I had yanked down to the ground succumbed and showed me what was under her habit. I was on a roll.

Now, I had bigger fish to fry. It began in religion class. Being a curious fellow, I had many questions when the nuns explained to me and the class that God was all knowing, and all powerful, and can see and hear everything that you do. So you better not lie, better be good, and better listen to the good Nuns.

To me, this sounded a lot like the Santa Claus story. You know the one, "He see's you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake, he knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake". Well, as my older brother once put it, I was bad all last year and Santa still brought me lots of presents. Seizing the opportunity to attack, I began to ask the nuns questions. I started off easy so as to not draw attention or the ire of the nuns to my ultimate goal.

First question was.... If God already knows if you are going to be bad or good, then what's the point in being good? If God knows, it doesn't matter if I'm good or bad. Right? Well, the nuns look puzzled and huddled up. The stately one, Sister Charlotte, took the point and explained to the class that God gave us all the freedom to make those choices for ourselves and that it's entirely up to us to make those decisions. OK, good answer I thought but lets see if she can field this question.

Second set of questions...So, if God doesn't know what decision I'm going to make then he isn't all knowing is He? The nuns went crazy. They were mad. Much like a stirred up hornets nest. Their were nuns buzzing all over the hive. (Classroom) In the blink of my eyes, I was whisked up by my shirt collar and taken (Dragged) to the principles office yet again. I was told to sit in the waiting room chair and wait until the Pastor came in. Several minutes later he arrived and he and the nuns had a little huddle. All I heard was whispering and some words like God, smart Alec, habit, trouble maker, Irish kid, and the sorts.

They broke huddle and the Pastor had a one on one talk with me. He asked me why I would ask such questions. being the good honest Catholic kid that I was, I told him the truth. Well, part of it anyway. I told him about the Santa Claus tie in and how it sounded hust like God's powers. He almost chuckled and smiled at me. He then gave me some mumbo jumbo and sent me back to the nuns never really answering my original question. HA! I had again escaped Capital punishment. I was on a roll. Not even a call to my parents on this one.

Life was good. I was escorted back to the classroom and sat down with a feeling of smugness that I was beginning to enjoy. But only for a short while. The nuns explained to me that during my absence we had a test and since I was not present, that I had failed that test and that a note to my parents would be mailed home. At that moment, I made eye contact with the nuns letting them know that a line had been drawn in the sand and it was now war, and that I was playing to win, and that I would.

I waited a week or two to let things calm down to draw suspicion away from me, and then I asked my next question.

If Adam and Eve......Well, that is another story.....

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LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL