rebellion

I never thought of myself as a particularly rebellious child. Most teenagers rebel in ways that completely freak their parents out. But, except for a extremely brief attempt at smoking cigarettes, I had never thought that I had tread the oh-so-dangerous waters of rebellion.

Then again, there was an instance I recall, back when I was in high school. I had heard that it was possible, and even sort of expected, to pull pranks on your neighbours on the night before Hallowe'en.
Pranks were to be of the toilet-paper-strung-through-tree-branches or the soaping-of-windows variety. I chose the soaping of windows one because we were not allowed to waste toilet paper at our house. So off I went with my bar of Zest gripped tightly and criminally in my hand. I do not know what excuse I offered to get out of the house but there I was walking down the street - free to pillage at will.
The problem was was that I liked my neighbours. We liked the girls next door and I had started babysitting for the family behind us and Bill from next door was a real nice guy. Nope, couldn't do that sort of thing to my neighbours - they were too nice. But with the soap in my sweaty little palm I had to soap somebody's window. So I snuck around the side of our house . The garage window was mostly hidden by greenery and so I didn't feel quite so evil. I began soaping away.
I can't remember what I wrote or too much else about the incident save for the fact that the next spring we were cleaning up the garage and Mom noticed the soap marks on the window. She asked me to clean it up and so I did. Thus ended the evidence into my brief foray into the crime of graffiti-ing.