Ol' knock-and-run was a blast until that one day
Tonight is Devil’s Night, a time when marauding adolescents roam the streets and create havoc on unsuspecting neighbors. Or something dumb like that.
In our day, it was a big deal but the worst thing we did was threaten to throw eggs at cars. But we didn’t because we were afraid of getting caught. Still, we felt it was our duty as punk kids to do something on Devil’s Night, which was so popular at the time the local grocery store refused to sell eggs and toilet paper to kids. So, because we were so clever, we came up with alternative pranks.
One of our favorite tricks was the door dash, or knock-and-run. The basic concept of this very humorous prank was to knock on someone’s door and run away fast enough so by the time the unsuspecting victim opened said door, there was no one around. And the rest of us would be hiding nearby, within sight of the target, and laugh and laugh when the person opened the door to see nowhere there.
We even did it to each other because, you know, we had a lot of time on our hands. One afternoon I was home when someone knocked. Back then, before cellphones and texting, we had to knock on each other’s door if we wanted to talk to one another. It was quite common. And, of course, I was quite wary of the knock-and-run.
I answered anyway and, sure enough, when I opened the door, no one was there. Ha, ha, I said to no one in particular. But as I was closing the door, something caught my eye. I looked down and there was a box. Again, back then there was no Amazon, so a nondescript box on the porch was very strange.
These were the days before Ted Kaczynski, but I was still very suspicious. After looking around and seeing nobody, I carefully exited the house and slowly looked over this rather large box.
Then, gathering all my courage while still fearing the worst, I decided to see what was inside. I slowly lifted up one flap and like a bolt of lightning leaped off the porch and away from the mystery. Something live was there, all right, and I saw it move. And it was beastly, like a hairy horrible creature that could jump out at me like an alien and rip my throat out.
Slowly I got my nerve and used a stick to open the box. But the creature didn’t leap out. Ever so carefully, I approached and, from a distance, was able to peer inside. Sure enough, it was a beast. But it wasn’t hairy. It had feathers. Like all chickens.
Yes, someone left a live chicken in a box on my front porch.
After the fear eased, I kinda became friends with that chicken. It hung around in our backyard for a couple days. Until my dad got tired of all the chicken poop. Then one day it was gone. He said he took it to a farm. And I wonder if it was the same farm where he took our dog that chewed up the garden hose and dug holes in the lawn. I wonder if they became friends and grew old together.
Ray Kisonas is the regional editor of The Monroe News and The Daily Telegram. He can be reached at rayk@monroenews.com.
This article originally appeared on The Monroe News: Ray Kisonas: Ol' knock-and-run was a blast until that one day
