By Jared Fields, Editor in Chief

My friends wanted to toilet paper a teacher’s house for Halloween during my junior year of high school.

My parents had a 1992 Chevrolet conversion van with a back couch that folded into a bed. On weekends, I felt like the town’s chauffeur, always on driving duty when we would drive around town and the country just hanging out, goofing off and trying to stay away from the law.

We always gathered in the Methodist church parking lot to talk and plan our night. After deciding we wanted to TP a house or two, we pitched in our money and climbed in the van to drive up the street to Allsup’s to buy toilet paper.

In Paducah, a small Texas Panhandle town with fewer than 1,500 people, Allsup’s was the only place open 24 hours. We had nowhere else to go and were a 30-mile drive from the nearest town. The parking lot was a large dirt parking lot that sat on the main street, or drag, we drove around on weekend nights.

We had never bought toilet paper before and had no clue how much it would cost. We found Allsup’s had incredibly cheap toilet paper. And lots of it.

We bought every roll they had, walking out with a huge box-full and more single packages we carried out in armfuls.

Driving around, we were still trying to decide whose house to TP and could not reach an agreement. We didn’t get the chance
to decide.

A cop car suddenly turned its lights on and pulled us over, catching me off guard because I never saw where it came from.

The chubby deputy walked up to my window and asked what we were up to.

I said “nothing;” he didn’t believe me and ordered everyone out of the van.

As he continued standing by my door, everyone oozed out of the only door to the back seats. I felt the van’s suspension rise as people kept stepping out of the door. I saw people exit that I didn’t know were in town, much less in my van.

The officer asked if we had or were going to toilet paper someone’s house and I said no. He asked if he could search the van to see if I was lying, and I let him. He reached one hand under the closest seat and pulled out a roll of toilet paper, asking what I had it for.

I said, “To TP a house.”

As we stood on the sidewalk, I counted how many people I had in the van. Somehow, 17 fit somewhere inside.

We asked how he knew to pull us over because the stop wasn’t for any traffic violation. He said the Allsup’s clerk told him some kids just bought every roll of toilet paper in the store.

Living in such a small town, the deputy had a good idea of where to start his investigation.

After telling us not to toilet paper any houses and having an almost constant police tail, we drove around the rest of the night and finally all went home.

But what happened to the store-full of toilet paper we bought, you may ask?

Well, it stayed in the van. For two years, anytime we ran short, we just went to the van instead of the store. In every nook and cranny we would find rolls of toilet paper. That Halloween also supplied our next two toilet-papering outings. Now I’m running low on toiletries for my apartment.

Anyone want to go toilet papering with me?