I'm sure most of you have heard that old proverb, "Idleness is the devils work shop". Well, I learned early in life that is very often the truth. Sometimes idle time, especially on hot summer nights, would lead to mischief for me and my friends. My mother used to tell me that my feet ran to mischief and when I think back, I have to say she was right.

     About the only thing we had on summer nights that was not potential trouble was cat fishing down at Hitchcock Creek. And, you can only do so much of that. However, the great thing about cat fishing was you did that at night. Mom and Dad didn't worry so much when I was down on the creek, fairly safe from trouble. What they didn't know was that a lot of nights I wasn't down there - they just thought I was. I would gather up my pole and can of Georgia wigglers and head down Bunker Street about dusk only to end up who knows where and plenty of mischief to get into. I may have been walking around up town where I would get picked up by older guys that had cars. Once I was in that car, the sky was the limit. Before that night was over I might have ended up anywhere in the county,  from stealing watermelons  over at Roberdel  to night hunting rabbits from a car along those quiet country roads between Ellerbe and Norman.  Sometimes we would just go where there was some kind of off the wall action going on and just watch for a while. It might be some drunk husband trying to get his wife to let em back in the house, or some jerk sneaking into some other guys house while the husband was away.


     I recollect about an incident where just that was going on down on Hog Back, the block around the corner from where I lived. This clown would sneak into this other guys house to make a "social call" on his pretty young wife while he went to work on the night shift. He didn't work, didn't even want a job so he had plenty of time to mess around while this other poor stiff worked all night long. Well, my sidekick Ricky and I weren't about to pass up this opportunity to have some real fun. We had seen him doing this routine for a while now. So we hatched up a plan to deal with this situation. Now understand we were no saints ourselves so we were not playing moral crusaders here - not by a long shot. But this was gonna be good, we had no choice you understand, we had to do it! just had too!


      Of course our plan involved cat fishing which was always our cover for such shenanigans as this. So, a couple of nights later we found ourselves down on Hitchcock Creek with a couple of cane poles propped up just waiting for 11 o'c lock to roll around. That is when the poor stiff left faithfully ever night for his night shift job at Aleo mill. Ricky and I just sat there on the old retaining wall in the bright light of an old tire we were burning, watching the black smoke billow up into the darkness with the flickering embers, listening to the chirping of crickets and the croaking of frogs. Yes, it was a tranquil night indeed, broken only by an occasional catfish that had to be pulled in and put on the string.


      Well sir, there about 11 o'clock  we saw the long winding flash of headlights as it turned by the Presbyterian Church ,making that turn onto Haslington St and heading west on Hamer Road. We knew that to be the poor sap heading for his all night shift at Aleo. Ricky gets up, stretches and says, "Well that must have been him, it's time for the MIDNIGHT MOONER." That's the name we had given him because a couple of times he was nearly caught in the act and we would see his bare behind in the moonlight as he fled down the path through the honeysuckle vines. So we rolled up our poles, bait and tackle and the all important "Snake Gun", which was an old beat up 410 shotgun. You had to be careful with it because it would go off accidentally if you breached it too hard. We scaled up the steep bank, crossed Haslington  and hastily headed up to Hogback where our diabolical prank was to go down. We couldn't have arrived too soon, for just as we hid in the shadows we saw'em a commin!

      It was Bobby Ray, tip toeing as quiet as a harvest mouse pausing in the shadow of each dark tree,  looking around like he was suspicious of something not being just right. Then cautiously moving to each tree 'til he was in the dark side of the yard. Seeing the coast was clear, he darted around to the back side of the house. Then we heard the faint sound of a screen door spring as the unfaithful winch let him in.


     Rick and I had our plan down as we had verbally rehearsed it several times. Rick's part was to go around back and stand at the corner with the shot gun - it was a single shot, so he only had one chance to get it right. My part was to scare 'em out with the flash light. Neither Rick or myself had much experience in passionate matters so it was a guess at best as to just how long to wait - I mean, all we knew about this kind of stuff was listening to older boys bragging about their conquests of females in the back seat of their cars. So, we had to wing it so to speak. After giving Mooner about 7 or 8 minutes, I trotted with the bright spot light around the road and into the driveway by the house just like when the husband would always pull his car in, making sure that the bright light beam flashed the window of the room where the partners in crime were doing their thing. Then I went loudly onto the front porch and shook the door knob. I swear I thought I could hear two hearts drumming from inside the wall but more likely it was my own blood rushing thru my ears because I was plenty nervous. But one noise was unmistakable, and that was all the commotion going on in that back room, shear terror is what it was. Then in just a moment I heard the back window slowly raise up and the sound of two bare feet hitting the ground and just like before, we could see Bobby Ray mooning us as he tip toed down the path. And I was so proud of Ricky when right on cue "KABOOM!" The blast illuminated the whole back yard! That caused Bobby Ray to kick up to a higher gear as he changed tip toes to a full gallop as he streaked down that rocky path, sharp rocks and glass be dammed, he wasn't interested in his clothes, shoes or anything but putting distance between him and this place as he zig zagged down the path.

     Finally we began to hear heavy thrashing sounds. We knew by that he had gotten off the path and was far into the brier thickets. If we heard him thrashing on the left we would run over that way and yell "HEY YOU!" This would make him think someone was trying to head him off and he would change directions, running back thru the briar thicket again. Somehow he managed to get thru the briers and thistles  and finally made it to the Presbyterian Church yard. From there he cut thru the woods to Haslington Street, running all the way around to the Pee Dee Baptist church,  then up to the shadows of Pea Vine Davis's house. All this with nothing on but underwear! Only now did he pause to get his breath. He looked wild eyed and panted like a race horse! Ricky and I watched the whole ordeal from the high hill at the top of Hogback. We didn't leave 'til we saw him finally drag into his mother's dark house. 

     So now Ricky and I went back down to Hitchcock Creek with the satisfaction of another great night. We sat down there on the old retaining wall, and just laughed and laughed. We would stop for a moment or two, then look at each other and just bust out again in laughter.


      The Midnight Mooner  must have thought he really had dodged a bullet as he lay in that dark room staring at the ceiling looking like a jig saw puzzle from all the briars.  He didn't even rise the next morning, even through the aroma of those bacon 'n eggs his loving Mama cooked for him every morning. The story going around the neighborhood that morning by an eaves dropping neighbor said his Mom, worried that he didn't get up, told his Dad to look in on him. He reluctantly put down his coffee and obeyed his persistent wife. They say he returned shortly and told her that 'HER FAIR HAIRED BOY' was ok and sleeping like a babe. They said she then asked him if anything was wrong, because of the puzzled look on his face. He scratched his head looking off in the distance and said, "Where did Bobby Ray go last night?"  Nowhere, she replied, "Why do you ask?"  "Well," he said scratching his head, "How long has Bobby Ray been wearing  WHITE LACED BLOOMERS?"

        It appears that THE MIDNIGHT MOONER in his panic and haste to take flight had mistakenly slipped on the wrong underwear!