Category: Writings
Every now and then I get the urge to write something. Check out my dabblings here.
Agents of the Vault – Part 4
Part 4 of Agents of the Vault.
If you want to subscribe to the Grantcast, you can do so with iTunes, or by using this feed in your favorite podcatcher. Enjoy! And let me know what you think of the story in the comments here, as we go along.
Also, if you prefer a PDF version of this part to read, CLICK HERE for that.
Finally, if you’d like to support my projects, visit www.patreon.com/saturdaymorningmedia
Agents of the Vault
Part 4
By Grant Baciocco
It was pitch black when the train came to a sudden, lurching stop, sending the occupants of the passenger cars tumbling forward. Charlie instinctively grabbed the saddle bag as he woke, making sure it was secure. He stood and looked at Grisom who was picking himself up off the ground. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” replied Grisom. “Something’s wrong. Train’s don’t make unscheduled stops in the middle of the night. But get your gun ready.”
Charlie’s saddle bag shifted. A whistle fluttered out. Charlie’s hand quickly grabbed the side of the bag. “Easy Doris. Easy.”
Grisom looked towards the back of the car, “Let’s step outside and see what we can see.” He then nodded towards the bag, “Keep her quiet.”
Charlie reached into the bag and stroked the soft fur of the creature that huddled inside of it as he followed Grisom down the train’s aisle towards the back of the car. Passengers were busy standing, readjusting luggage and wondering what had happened. They peered out of the windows and into the darkness as Grisom and Charlie passed them and chattered amongst themselves, throwing out possible theories for the train’s sudden stop.
Charlie and Grisom went out the door at the back of the car and Grisom motioned towards the ladder leading to the roof of the freight car behind the car they’d come out of. They ascended and once on the roof, they crept along the top, keeping low so they couldn’t be seen by anyone of the ground. They could see torches lighting the area around the door of the freight car on the left side of the train. On their bellies now, they slid forward just enough to see over the edge of the roof.
Three men on horses with torches and bandanas around their faces waited near the freight car door.
Charlie whispered, “Are those Jane’s men?”
Grisom shrugged, indicating he didn’t know. Just then, from one of the passenger cars further up the train, came some shouting. Grisom and Charlie looked to their right and saw a fourth bandit on horseback forcing another man to walk towards the freight car. As the two figures came closer, Charlie and Grisom could see it was Mr. Brandle. His mouth was running non stop.
“—The truth! There’s no gold on this train.” Brandle pleaded.
The man on horseback kicked him further along the side of the train. “Be quiet and keep walking. We know there is gold on this here train. Our man in Yankton says so. Also says that you, Mr. Brandle, have the only key that can release the trunk with the gold from the special slot on the train floor.”
Brandle was a bundle of stuttering now. “Ab-ab-ab-surd! Why the thought of it is outrageous. I have told you that there is no gold, why are you so reluctant to not believe me.” They were now standing at the door of the freight car.
In one quick motion, the man on the horse leaned down and knocked Brandle out cold with the butt of his revolver. Brandle fell with a splat in the dirt next to the train. “Jimmy, search this fat jasper for any keys he’s got on him.” The man on horseback barked.
Jimmy hopped down of his horse and turned Brandle over. His pockets were rifled through and the bandit came out with a set of keys on a ring. He held them up for the leader to see.
“Buck, help Jimmy get that door open and get in there. It ain’t gonna be long before one of the passengers gets the fool notion to try and take us on. We don’t need blood spilled tonight. Let’s just get the gold and git.”
“RIght Leland,” one of the other men said as he hopped down from his horse to help Jimmy open the freight car doors. The leader slipped his hand under his bandana and gave two short, sharp whistles. As the whistles echoed in the darkness, Doris began shifting uneasily in the saddle bag to Charlie’s left.
Charlie reached a hand down into the bag and whispered, “Shhhhh. Easy girl.”
Suddenly a creaking could be heard approaching the train in the darkness. Charlie and Grison strained to see just what was going on. Below them they felt the door of the freight car rumble open and heard Jimmy and Buck clanking about inside. After a minute, a horse drawn cart entered the flickering ring of light the torches were casting on the prairie floor.
The man driving brought the cart around in a wide circle so that the bed of the cart was even with the floor of the freight cart. As he did, Grisom and Charlie heard Buck and Jimmy straining as they lifted the gold chest across the freight car floor and into the back of the wagon.
Leland looked around. “Okay, now let’s get to riding. This has taken way too long.”
“Leland?” came Jimmy’s voice from inside the freight car.
“What is it Jimmy? I said let’s get moving.”
“You gotta see this.”
Grisom shifted uneasily next to Charlie. “The trunk.” He whispered softly.
“What the hell are you flapping on about?” said Leland as he brought his horse closer to the door of the freight car.
“This trunk. Look at all the fancy markings on it. Looks expensive. Old, but expensive.”
Leland held his torch in through the door of the freight car and peered inside. After regarding the trunk for a moment, he pulled his horse back. “Bring it. We’ll open it later.”
Charlie turned towards Grisom, “What do we do?”
“What can we do? We can’t let them take the trunk.” Grisom slid back from the edge of the car quietly, Charlie followed his lead. Grisom had his guns out checking to see that they were loaded. “Charlie, you slide off the other side of the car here and go at them from underneath. I’ll distract them until you get down there. We gotta be fast, if they take off we’ll lose them in the dark.”
“But, what should we—“
Grisom cut him off. “No time. Go!” Then Grisom stood up on top of the car and walked to the edge with his guns drawn. “All right, hold it!”
Charlie scrambled off the far side of the car as he heard the men shout in confusion at Grisom’s words.
Leland looked up at Grisom, “Listen old man, we don’t want any trouble. We’re just going to take these things and be on our way.”
“You can take the gold. Leave that other trunk.”
There was a moment of silence.
Leland looked at the trunk then back up at Grisom, “Well now, old timer, your protectiveness of the trunk makes me very curious as to what could be inside.”
“A writing desk. Some papers. I’ll open it and show it to you if you’d like.” Came Grisom’s reply. Charlie was now under the train by one of the sets of wheels. He was near Leland, but realized he didn’t have a clear shot unless he broke cover. In the saddle bag, Doris was shifting nervously with the tension she felt in the air.
“Something tells me there’s more to what’s inside that trunk than just a writing desk and some papers. So I think we’ll take it along with us.”
“I’d hate to see you do that, because then I’d have to kill you.”
Another moment of silence and then Leland and his men busted out laughing.
“Kill me? You do realize you are seriously outgunned at the moment?”
“I may be. Or I may not be. I may have you surrounded. You can’t be sure.”
Leland pulled the reigns of his horse back, starting the animal in walking backwards, while keeping a gun on Grisom.
“You can’t be sure that we don’t have this entire train surrounded.” Leland said, still slowly backing up. He reached a hand under his bandana again and gave a long sharp whistle.
Suddenly from out in the darkness came the sound of a shotgun firing. Grisom heard pellets hit the back of the train car behind him. He fell flat to the floor. Under the car, Charlie spun around to try to see where in the darkness the shot had come from. As he did, his saddle bag shifted and Doris came tumbling out.
Doris was a small creature similar to a koala bear. Gray, fuzzy, but with huge black eyes taking up the sides of her head. She had a long prehensile tail that she curled around her like a ball as she tumbled from the bag. She landed on all fours with her back arched like a cat, ready to attack. He long incisors glistening in the torch light. Her long claws digging into the wooden railroad tie she landed near. A low whistle coming from her mouth. Being so small none of the men noticed her. Charlie realized she was out and was just about to whisper for her to return to the bag when the horse that was pulling the cart caught wind of her and reared back with a loud whinny. Doris replied with a small puff of fire from her mouth that frightened the horse even more and made it bolt. The man at the reigns of the cart, completely unawares of what had happened, held on for dear life as the cart sped off, full tilt, into the darkness.
Buck, who had been standing on the back of the cart when it began moving tumbled to the ground and landed next to Brandle’s, still unmoving, body. The other bandits panicked in the commotion, and began to take off, firing wildly in the direction of Grisom and the train.
“Let’s go! Follow the cart!” Leland barked as he turned his horse. Buck had scrambled to get up and chased after the cart as it rumbled away. He reached it just as it disappeared into the darkness and hauled himself up onto the flatbed back.
Jimmy, seeing his partner’s flight, scrambled out of the freight car and dashed for his horse. Doris saw this and leapt forward, sinking her teeth into Jimmy’s calf. Jimmy tumbled to the ground instantly paralyzed.
Charlie, scrambled out from under the train car, “Doris! Bag!”
Doris looked towards Charlie, her teeth still firmly in Jimmy’s leg.
“Doris, bag NOW!” said Charlie sharply.
With a sad chirp, Doris released her bite hold Jimmy’s leg and scrambled off, across the dusty prairie floor, towards Charlie. She gracefully climbed up Charlie’s leg and scurried into the saddlebag. Charlie walked towards where Jimmy was lying down on the ground, still breathing. His eyes were still able to move and he was awake, but he was completely paralyzed. Charlie knelt next to him.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine in about an hour’s time.” Said Charlie to the, obviously, panicked Jimmy. Charlie looked back toward the car and saw Grisom climbing down off of it and walking his way. He also saw the conductor and others were now making their way to the scene of the action. One person was helping Brandle up off the ground.
“She got out when the shots fired from behind us,” said Charlie, indicating the bag. “Spooked their horse.”
“We’re going to have to go after them. They have the trunk.” Grisom replied, shaking his head, clearly frustrated.
The Conductor made his way up to them. His lantern spilling light every which way. “Is that one of them?” he asked.
Grisom nodded as he stood.
“He dead?” the conductor queried.
“No.” Grisom replied. “Bit in the leg by a rattler.”
The conductor peered down at the fallen bandit. He saw the puncture wounds in the leg. “Looks too wide to be a rattler.”
“Well it was,” Grisom replied. “I saw it slither off.”
“Hmmm. Well you two best get back on the train. Engineer wants to move out as soon as possible.”
“We aren’t going back. Those men made off with our trunk and we aim to get it back.” Grisom looked back at the train and the folks gathered around the freight car. “We’ll take their horses.” Grisom said, indicating Buck and Jimmy’s steeds that were left behind after the skirmish. He looked down at Jimmy, “Can you hold him on the train and turn him in at Yankton?”
The Conductor nodded. “Not sure there’s a doctor on the train for his bite though.”
Grisom looked down and locked eyes with Jimmy. “He’ll be fine. I was able to get most of the poison out. He’ll he right as rain in about an hour I imagine.”
The Conductor nodded again and whistled for two other train employees to come help him get Jimmy back to the train. Grisom and Charlie walked to gather the horses.
“How we gonna know which way to go? It’s pretty dark.” Charlie said.
“The wagon tracks should be pretty easy to follow.” Grisom replied. “Hoping we can borrow a lantern from the train staff to light our way.” Grisom stopped and turned to Charlie. “We gotta get to them and get that trunk before they try to open it.”
Charlie nodded, “Or before they run into Jane.”
©2015 Grant Baciocco/Saturday Morning Media
Agents of the Vault – Part 3
Part 3 of Agents of the Vault.
If you want to subscribe to the Grantcast, you can do so with iTunes, or by using this feed in your favorite podcatcher. Enjoy! And let me know what you think of the story in the comments here, as we go along.
Also, if you prefer a PDF version to read, CLICK HERE for that.
Finally, if you’d like to support my projects, visit www.patreon.com/saturdaymorningmedia
Agents of the Vault
By Grant Baciocco
Part 3
At dusk, the train stopped at a water stop near the Kansas-Nebraska border, Grisom and Charlie hopped off the train to grab some food at a tiny roadhouse. Grisom, as he always did, sat in a corner so he could keep an eye on the room’s entrances and the people coming and going through them. A difficult task today as the roadhouse was packed. Every seat was filled except for the two other chairs at the table where they now sat, Charlie’s saddle bag resting on the empty seat next to him. Charlie did his best to cut through the leather tough pice of beef he and Grisom were splitting. Grisom looked in his direction, seeing the displeasure on his companion’s face.
“Food will be better in Yankton.” The older man drawled between bites. Charlie looked up and smiled.
“It’s fine. Better than nothin’” Charlie replied. He popped the piece of meat he’d managed to cut into his mouth and chewed. His jaw popping with each gnashing of his teeth, doing their best to soften the meat. As he chewed he scooped up a spoonful of the ice cold beans they’d been served and glanced around the room. When he was sure no one was looking he doled them out on the wooden seat next to him. The saddlebag at his side began to shift and two fuzzy arms slipped out and began scooping in the beans.
Grisom leaned to his side to watch the beans disappear, then looked up at Charlie. “How’s she doing?”
“Seems to be doing fine. The train put her right out.”
“I reckon the train put us all right out.” Grisom replied, taking a sip off his coffee. “Now once we get to Yankton we’ll—“
“Pardon me, sirs!” said a short, pear shaped man with large handlebar mustache who was now hovering above the other empty seat. “There’s no where else to sit.” He glanced down at the empty chair. “May I join you?”
“We’d be obliged.” Grisom replied and gestured towards the chair. As the man noisily sat, clanking his plate and cup on the table, Charlie made a clicking noise with his tongue. The creature in the saddlebag quickly drew itself to the back and made sure to keep out of sight.
“Thank you.” The man said once seated. “Terrance Brandle is the name.”
“Name’s Grisom. The kid here is Charlie.”
“Pleasure to make both of your acquaintances.” The man said, scooping a large spoonful of beans into his mouth. He talked sloppily with his mouth open. “Lots of folks on their way to Yankton it would seem.”
“It would appear that way.” Grisom replied. He hated small talk.
“I suppose form the looks of many of them, their final destination is the gold in the Black Hills.”
“That your destination Mr. Brandle?” Grisom asked, not looking up at the man who he, after a few seconds of watching his sloppy eating, found disgusting
“Me? Heavens no.” Mr. Brandle chuckled. “My travels take me to Yankton. I’m a courier for the bank there.”
“Courier?”
Mr. Brandle wiped his chin with the back of his hand. “Ah, yes.” He shifted nervously thinking he may have said too much. He always seemed to do that.
Grisom saw the flash of panic cross the man’s face and to ease the man’s suddenly uneasy mind, he changed he subject.
“Foods decent?” Grisom asked sarcastically, watching how Brandle put it away.
“Mmm hmm,” the man replied between chomping mouthfuls. He swallowed, “So Mr. Grison, Charlie what brings you two to the Dakota territories?”
“We are…couriers as well,” said Grisom with a smile over to Charlie. The man stopped chewing and stared at Grisom wide-eyed. “We are bringing some items to a friend in Yankton.”
Brandle leaned in excited, wiping his fingers on his vest, “What kind of items? If I may ask.”
“You may ask,” Grisom answered. “But we ain’t gonna tell you.”
Brandle’s face dropped. Just then the train’s whistle sounded indicating that it was time to roll out. Brandle thanked Grisom and Charlie and scurried off through the throng of people. Charlie watched Grisom watch Brandle walk away.
Grisom indicated towards Brandle’s direction, “There’s something else on the train besides our trunk. Gold, maybe bank notes.”
Charlie stood, gingerly picking up the saddlebag as he rose. “Think so?”
“Yep. Notice how he clammed up the moment he mentioned the bank. He was worried he said too much and that we may take an unusual interest in what he was bringing to Yankton.” Grisom stood, putting on his hat. “Well, let’s get back on the train.”
Charlie stood, pushing in his chair and hoisting the saddlebag’s strap up over his shoulder. The bag was now the same height as the table and if anyone had been looking, which they weren’t, they would have seen a fuzzy, gray arm, slink out of the bag and snag the rest of Charlie’s uneaten steak and then quickly retreat into the bag. Charlie had seen the theft and patted the side of the bag as he and Grisom followed the crowd out of the roadhouse and back aboard the train.
—
©2015 Grant Baciocco/Saturday Morning Media
Agents of the Vault – Parts 1 & 2
An adventure begins! Here’s a new fiction story I’m working on, it’ll continue for several weeks. I’ve also recorded each section as an episode of The GrantCast that’ll be released as each part is. The audio version also has a little bit of the backstory of the story and how it came to be.
If you want to subscribe to the Grantcast, you can do so with iTunes, or by using this feed in your favorite podcatcher. Enjoy! And let me know what you think of the story in the comments here, as we go along.
Alos, if you prefer a PDF version to read, CLICK HERE for that.
Finally, if you’d like to support my projects, visit www.patreon.com/saturdaymorningmedia
Agents of the Vault
By Grant Baciocco
Part 1
The rattlesnake had slithered up next to the still glowing embers of the fire for warmth a few minutes ago. It was just about lulled to sleep by the warmth when it was startled awake by the approach of horses. The snake began shaking its rattle of a tail as the lead rider dismounted and crossed to the fire. It rattled louder now as as the wiry woman crouched down by the still crackling remnants of the fire. Her long brown leather coat pooled around her on the ground. She tipped back the hat she wore as the heat from the fire reached her face. Her eyes squinted as she looked over the coals. Behind her, the three men on horseback looked on anxiously.
“This fire is only about an hour old. They can’t have gone too far ahead of us.” She said just loud enough for the men to hear her over the continued rattling of the snake.
“You think they rode north to Yankton?” Agent Brenner asked.
“Either that or south towards Tombstone. Both have a Vault.” Came her sharp reply. She stood suddenly from her crouched position and turned to her men. The snake, taking this as aggression, lunged at her boot. The rattler bit the side of her boot hard, driving its teeth into the leather. She didn’t look down as she continued barking order to her agents. “Spread out on foot, carefully. Follow any tracks moving away from the fire. Use torches. I want to know which direction they headed off in, in less than five minutes.”
The men were off their horses before she’d finished her sentence. The snake struggled to remove it’s fangs from the leather of her boot. She ignored it and looked out as far as she could in the darkness. Prairie as far as the eyes could see in the moonlight. “Which way did you go old man?” she whispered to herself. She thought of how long she had tracked him and his kind, but Grisom had always escaped her. The noose was tightening this time.
The tugging at her boot shook her from her thoughts. She looked down at the rattler, writhing to free itself. In a flash, her six shooter was out of it’s holster and she fired a single, unaimed, shot that severed the snake’s head cleanly from its body at the neck. The report echoed loudly across the open land.
The four horses whinnied nervously. The three agents froze and turned to her as the prairie was engulfed in silence once more. She holstered her weapon and turned fiercely toward the agents staring, gape mouthed at her. “You are standing around, which means you are not looking.”
The three men resumed their search without a word.
Part 2
They two men had hopped the train at the station in Kingsley. It had been a struggle getting the large trunk aboard the freight car and making sure it was handled carefully by the porters. The two men were now safely seated as the train lurched forward beginning their journey.
The older man sighed. He was gray haired and scraggly but his appearance gave onlookers the distinct impression that he should not be messed with. His clothes were not new and well worn, probably months, perhaps years since their last washing. He had a gun on either hip and both looked, much like his clothes, as if they were well worn as well. He took a few deep breaths and scanned the faces of the people on the platform outside the window as the train slowly started rumbling forward. Confident that they hadn’t been followed, he finally relaxed back in his seat when the train had cleared the station. The younger man sitting next to him looked over at him nervously. “You okay Grisom?”
“Yes, Charlie, I’m fine. I’m just getting less and less comfortable running so much for so long.” Grisom replied with a small chuckle.
“We gonna be safe in Yankton?” Charlie asked unfolding a pocket knife to cut the apple sitting in his lap.
“I reckon so.” Grisom drawled. “I sent word up on ahead to Doc so he could prepare for our arrival, but we can only hope the message arrived.” Grisom paused and coughed. “That trunk needs to get into Yankton and get into the Vault. It is of historical importance.” He looked at the young man riding beside him. “It was good of you to agree to come Charlie. I’m mighty grateful for your company and glad to have your gun along.”
Charlie smiled nervously. Grisom settled back in the seat and tipped his hat down over his eyes. Charlie looked out the window as the buildings of Kingsley thinned out and the train found its speed. Charlie was twenty two and what some would call ‘fresh faced.’ He cut an appearance slightly less ragged than his traveling companion but there were some sings of wear here and there. He was also armed, two pistols on either side and carried a large saddle bag had been attached a large strap to so it could be worn over his shoulder. His longer brown hair was blown around in the wind entering the car from the window they had taken a seat by.
Charlie’s eyes drifted from the passing landscape to the apple in his lap. Picking up the apple, he cut off a slice. He slid the piece into his mouth and chewed for a minute. After swallowing he looked back down at the apple and cut another slice, this one a little smaller than the first. He slowly lowered the hand with the apple slice towards the saddle bag at his side. When the apple was about three inches from the side of the pouch, the bagged shifted a little and a small, grey, furry arm with claws at the tips of the fingers, slipped out and grabbed the slice from him. The hand withdrew into the pouch quicker than it had appeared. A low whistle emanated from the bag.
Charlie patted the side of the bag, looking around to see if anyone had heard. “Shhh, girl.” The bag shifted slightly again and it seemed to settle down with the rocking of the train. The adrenaline of trying to make the train was finally ebbing as the plains opened up around the train car. Charlie felt his eyes begin to droop. He forced himself to keep them open just long enough to hand their tickets to the conductor. As the conductor passed, Charlie leaned back against the hard wooden seat. He made a quick glance over at Grisom who was deep in slumber. Charlie turned back to look out the window and the clear blue sky above the Kansas plain was the last thing he remembered seeing before drifting off to sleep.
—
©2015 Grant Baciocco/Saturday Morning Media
Senior TP Night
Here’s another blog entry you can read or listen to as I recorded it for the Grantcast. If you want to subscribe to the Grantcast, you can do so with iTunes, or by using this feed in your favorite podcatcher. Enjoy!
Senior TP Night
By Grant Baciocco
There was a tradition at Burlingame High School that, the night before the first day of school, the Senior class would give the front of the school the TP treatment. Meaning, they would cover the beautiful sequoia trees in the front of the school with toilet paper. I must say, I can still remember my first day of my Freshman year, pulling up to the front of the school and being awed at the sight of that toilet paper hanging off the trees. It was intimidating, “What have I gotten myself into?” The annual TPing of the school was something that you didn’t think about too much as you progressed through the years, but it was always in the back of your mind, “When I’m a senior, I get to do this!”
I was in band all four years of high school. A drummer. And for band kids, school actually started two weeks earlier in the form of Band Camp. We didn’t go away or anything, we just came to school each day and worked on our marching and pep rally type songs for four hours or so. Because of this, we were around the school for several days before the year began. Senior year, as the start of school creeped closer, thoughts of being able to TP the school started to creep into my head. I frequently discussed it with my two close friends, Dan and Jeanette. We were all excited about this tradition it was now our turn to partake in. There was only one problem, we were band kids. As such, we didn’t often interact with the ‘cool kids’ who’d be the main ones TPing the school in just a few days. But then I had an idea. “What if,” I told my pals, “We did something else? What if we TP’d the school in a different way?”
Dan, Jeanette and I discussed the different possibilities of achieving this and suddenly we hit upon the idea of, while the other seniors were toilet papering the outside of the school, what if we toilet papered the inside? This idea excited us all but we quickly realized that we couldn’t just break into the school and, on top of that, the school did have an alarm. Then a guardian angel appeared. Now, I will not reveal who this guardian angel was but I will say it was someone who was very knowledgeable about the the workings of the alarm system of the school. Not how to disarm it, but just which areas of the school were alarmed and which areas were not. We were told that a large open hallway area between the band room and two english classrooms were not alarmed and that would be our best bet as a place to wreak our TP mischief. This angel gave us a map showing which doors and windows to stay away from and even discreetly hinted at how we could enter the building without a key or breaking any windows. We were all set.
The night before school we drove to the campus and drove right past all the other seniors TPing the front of the building. We drove back around to the band room and parked and found our way to the secret entry point. In seconds, we were in. We knew going in, that the hallway would be harder to toilet paper than a bunch of trees, so we brought a long scotch tape to help us hang the toilet paper from he walls. Also Jeanette, being crafty, made some hilarious signs to hane above the doors of the classrooms. English teacher Mr/ Morgan got ‘Glen’s Pad.” Mrs. Caret got ‘Elaine’s Bungalo of love.” The band teacher, Mr. Kimura, got ‘Mr. K’s,’ which was also the name of a local nightclub in burlingame.
We spent about an hour making everything perfect and, when we were finally satisfied, to honor the moment, we snapped a few pictures of our handiwork and carefully snuck out of the building and into the night.
The next morning I was so excited to get back to school to see the reaction of the people as they walked into the band room area hallway, I parked and made a bee line to the door to the hallway. I ran up to the door, flung it open and…the entire hallway was spotless. There wasn’t a square of toilet paper anywhere. The signs were gone from above the doors. It was your average, everyday hallway. I was crestfallen. Jeanette and Dan arrived and they too were majorly bummed out. We had worked so hard.
Apparently, what had happened is the janitors had arrives earlier, found the mess and cleaned it all up before anyone else arrived. Insert sad trombone sound here.
Not to be deterred in letting people know what we had done, I wrote an anonymous letter to the Burlingame B, the school’s newspaper telling everything that had happened. And I included one of the pictures of the toilet paper hanging in the hallway. The letter ran and the world knew. But it would have been much better had they seen it with their own eyes. I read the printed letter and the picture accompanied it. Under the photo, a byline, Photo by Grant Baciocco. Oops. Maybe I should have just shut up about it.
I was never punished or anything. But that was the story of the one time the inside of Burlingame High School was toilet papered.
©2015 Grant Baciocco/Saturday Morning Media