May 21, 2013 – Dayton, Idaho, USA
Graduation was only three days away for the seniors at West Side High School in eastern Idaho. West Side sat in the middle of potato country and was built so that students did not have to go all the way to Preston or Pocatello for an education. For some of the 51 students in the graduating class, it would be the biggest day of their lives.
It would be the first graduation ceremony for new principal, Chad Hatfield. The old principal had warned him about the school’s tradition of senior pranks during graduation week. Some of the pranksters had gone too far by flooding the girls’ bathroom or bending the flagpole. Mr. Hatfield was determined to end the destruction.
“I need you to act like responsible adults,” Mr. Hatfield said to a special meeting with the senior class. “Your kids might go to this school someday. Take some pride in it. If any of you hear of plans to cause any damage, let me know. You can stay anonymous.”
Sitting next to each other in the crowd of students were five boys who formed the core of West Side’s football and basketball teams. Preston, Clifton, Spencer, Javier, and Hunter were not great athletes by large-school standards, but playing sports gave them an excuse to hang out together instead of picking potatoes. When Mr. Hatfield made his announcement about pranks, the other students glanced at the five friends as the most likely to attempt something.
Preston and Clifton were twins. They both raised their hands to get Mr. Hatfield’s attention.
“Yes, Preston?” said Mr. Hatfield, gesturing toward one of the boys.
“I’m Clifton. Will there be a reward?”
“A reward for what?” asked Mr. Hatfield.
“For snitching on a prank.”
“You shouldn’t think of it as snitching. It’s more like being responsible.”
Clifton chuckled along with the rest of his friends. When the special meeting was dismissed, Clifton said to them, “Now we have to pull some kind of prank. Everybody’s counting on us.”
“How about if we take apart Mr. Hatfield’s car and put it back together in his office,” suggested Spencer.
“That would be a ton of work. It should be something easier,” said Javier.
“What if we just told him we’re going to do something. He’ll freak out and try to stop us. That will be the prank,” said Preston.
All five boys laughed. “It can’t get any easier than that,” said Clifton. “We could act like we were reporting it anonymously. Send him an email message.”
Everyone agreed it was a perfect plan. Before they left for home, they met in the library to use the school’s computer. Clifton created a new email account with the username westsidetattlegirl. He and the others giggled as they came up with a message.
“Dear Mr. Hatfield,
I heard some kids talking about putting pigs in the school. They’re doing it tonight. Pigs smell bad and I don’t want my future kids going to a smelly school. Please stop them.
Your friend,
Anonymous.”
“You think he’ll fall for it?” asked Spencer.
“Only one way to find out,” replied Clifton.
Later that night, the five friends piled into Hunter’s pickup truck and drove past the school parking lot with the truck’s headlights off. Sure enough, Mr. Hatfield’s Toyota Corolla sat in front of the school’s entrance. Although the Corolla was at least 100 yards away from Hunter’s truck, the boys were sure they saw someone sitting in the front seat.
“That’s him! He’s probably been there for six hours!” called Spencer, suppressing a laugh in case Mr. Hatfield had superhuman hearing.
Hunter moved his truck until there was no possible way Mr. Hatfield would hear. Then all the boys doubled over in laughter as they imitated how Mr. Hatfield must look during his one-man stakeout. They were still laughing at school the next day when they noticed how exhausted Mr. Hatfield looked.
“We should send him another message,” said Clifton. “We’ll see if he falls for it again.”
That afternoon, the pranksters were gathered around the library computer, giggling suggestions as Clifton typed.
“Dear Mr. Hatfield,
I’m really, really, really sorry. The pigs were supposed to go in last night but there was a problem with a coyote and a flat tire. The plan is back on for tonight. Please catch them before they ruin the school.
Yours truly,
Anonymous.”
When Hunter drove his truck past the high school that night, the Corolla was there. As the five friends laughed about how angry the principal must be, Preston began to wonder if what they had done really qualified as a prank.
“It’s more of a joke. It’s funny but no one’s going to remember it,” said Preston. “Who’s gonna care that we sent a fake email to the principal? What if we really did get some pigs?”
“Where we gonna get pigs?” asked Spencer.
“Lots of people have pigs. We’ll just borrow them for a night,” said Preston.
“What about getting into the school?” asked Clifton.
“My brother used to work as a janitor,” said Javier. “I could ask if he still has his keys.”
Hunter agreed that they could use his truck to transport the pigs and from there the plan seemed too obviously good not to follow through with it.
“What about Mr. Hatfield? Should we send him another message?” asked Spencer.
“If we don’t, he might get suspicious and think the first two emails were trying to throw him off of the real night,” said Clifton. “We better send him another one.”
“And if he’s dumb enough to believe us again, we can always turn around if we see his car,” said Hunter.
The plan still sounded funny after the five friends had a night to sleep on it. As seniors, they were supposed to spend the afternoon practicing for the next day’s graduation ceremony. Instead, they left school early to find a farm with the easiest access to pigs they might borrow. Before they disappeared from campus, Spencer sent another anonymous message to Mr. Hatfield explaining how the tipster was even more story about the confusion and this time the pigs would definitely arrive.
As the friends began their hunt for the perfect pigs to poach, Hunter and Javier had strong opinions about where to find them. Both of their families had traded potatoes or tractor parts for bacon.
“We don’t care about which pigs taste the best,” said Spencer. “No one’s eating them. All they need to do is run around the school.”
“The pigpen should be close to the road so we can make a clean getaway,” said Preston. “I don’t want to get shot when someone hears pigs squealing.”
“And we want small pigs. There’s no way we can lift a monster hog into Hunter’s truck,” added Clifton.
The boys drove around the dirt county roads discovering that most pigs were in pens with high walls or too close to their owners’ houses. And then Hunter slowly rolled past the Allred farm, which was less than a mile from the high school. The Allreds raised pigs in short wire pens. Between the pigs and the farmhouse sat a tall barn, perfect for deflecting sound.
“They got some young ones,” said Preston. “Should be easy to grab.”
“And we can park the truck right here,” said Hunter. “It’ll only take a few seconds to run across that field.”
All the boys agreed they were not going to find better pigs to borrow. They returned to their homes to dress in black clothing for the big raid ahead.
At 11:00 pm, Hunter picked up Spencer and they drove straight to the high school. The parking lot was empty.
“Mr. Hatfield gave up! This is gonna be perfect,” cried Spencer.
Hunter’s truck made stops for the rest of the gang of five and then they returned to Allred’s farm and cut the lights and engine.
“Should I wait in the truck in case we need to make a quick getaway?” Hunter suggested.
“Nah, we gotta have everyone for grabbing the pigs,” said Spencer.
Under the spring moonlight, the pig borrowers crept toward the pens. Preston and Clifton blinked their flashlights to make sure they were on course for the enclosure closest to the truck. When they reached the waist-high fence, Preston pointed his light inside. A huge mother pig lay asleep on the ground, surrounded by piglets as big as medium-sized dogs.
Preston and Clifton climbed over the fence and handed their flashlights back to Javier and Spencer. Preston tiptoed forward and reached for the nearest piglet. Before he could touch it, the mother pig snorted and flipped upright. The surrounding piglets squealed and scattered.
“Just grab any of them!” hissed Spencer.
Preston and Clifton lunged at piglets but grabbed only handfuls of filthy mud. Oinking, squealing pigs circled the pen like water going down a drain.
“We gotta hurry!” cried Clifton. “Try trapping them in a corner.”
Working together, Clifton and his twin brother cornered the piglets until Clifton actually got his arms around one of them. He strained to lift it while the piglet kicked and squirmed. With Preston’s help, Clifton hefted the pig over the fence and into Javier’s arms.
“Maybe just two more!” called Spencer above all the grunting.
Preston and Clifton managed to grab two more piglets and get them over the wire fence. The twins jumped out of the pen and helped their friends carry the three struggling piglets across the field to the pickup. When they got the piglets into the truck’s bed, Hunter motioned for the twins to get in back with them.
“Since you two are the dirtiest, you can make sure they don’t jump out,” insisted Hunter.
The ride to the high school was slow, but the piglets continued to run back and forth and fall over as the truck bounced. Preston and Clifton did their best to keep them from getting too close to the bed walls or the tailgate. Hunter backed the truck right up to the school’s entrance.
Javier jumped out of the cab and ran for the door. He pulled a key from his pocket as Spencer called, “It better work!”
The key fit. Javier pulled open the door and proudly motioned for everyone to come inside.
“Hold it open while we grab the pigs!” shouted Spencer.
One by one, the noisy piglets were dragged from the truck and shoved through the front door. Once the third pig was inside, Javier twisted the lock, removed the key, and wiped the door handle with his shirt in case anyone dusted for fingerprints. After loud self-congratulations and high-fives, the boys returned home to get cleaned up and hide any evidence that linked them to pig pilfering.
Meanwhile, inside the school, the three piglets enjoyed the wide-open spaces of the hallways. Having grown up in a small pen, it was their first chance to run and explore. They naturally followed their snouts to a delicious smell in the cafeteria. Boxes of uneaten donuts sat on chairs surrounding a long table. The piglets hungrily attacked the donuts and then the donut boxes.
The cafeteria donuts were leftovers from the senior party earlier that day. Graduates were supposed to be there to pick up their graduation gowns, which were a special shade of maroon to match the school’s colors. Draped over chairs next to the donuts were five unclaimed gowns meant for Preston, Clifton, Spencer, Javier, and Hunter.
After the hungry, growing piglets were done with the donuts, they were curious about how the maroon gowns might taste. They dragged the gowns to the floor, chewed them, ripped them, stomped on them, pooped on them, and finally curled up and fell asleep on them.
The three piglets were easily discovered the next morning. Early arriving teachers called the Sheriff, who quickly tracked down where the pigs belonged. They were back at the Allred’s farm before most students got to school. That included the five pranksters, who showed up for their very last day, to be followed by a graduation ceremony that evening. They were surprised when their first period teachers told each of them to report to the principal’s office.
When the five friends squeezed into the chairs facing the principal’s desk, they looked nervously at each other. Had one of them broken down and confessed to what was meant as a fun, innocent joke? Mr. Hatfield quietly smiled like he knew a whole lot more than they did.
“You look worried. Have you got something to tell me?” Mr. Hatfield finally said.
“No. Are we in trouble for something?” Preston quickly answered.
“Should you be?”
“No,” replied Spencer, shaking his head. The other boys shook theirs too.
Mr. Hatfield smiled again as he watched them. Then he acted like he was remembering something sad. “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you boys. You might have heard about the pigs in the school last night.”
Mr. Hatfield paused and the five boys struggled to keep their faces frozen.
“Turns out those pigs ruined your graduation gowns. I’m not sure why you didn’t pick them up yesterday, but the pigs chewed right through them. Too bad.”
“What does this mean? Can we still graduate?” asked Spencer in a panic.
“Yeah, you still graduate. You just won’t have a gown to wear.”
“Then what do we wear?” asked Javier.
“Maybe some church-type clothes. Do you have a suit?”
“I don’t want to wear a suit!” cried Hunter.
All the boys agreed that wearing a suit was worse than not attending graduation. They grumbled and whined and called their parents. Preston’s and Clifton’s mom rushed right down to the school. Mr. Hatfield explained that a real tragedy had occurred.
“We’ll have to make due with what we can find,” said the twins’ mother. “I’m pretty good with sewing but I don’t have any maroon material. I’ll drive up to the Pocatello Walmart and see what they’ve got.”
Preston’s and Clifton’s mom returned with some bedsheets that were the closest thing to maroon Walmart had. She only had time to cut head and arm holes in them and add safety pins to give them some shape. When the boys got in line with the rest of their class, they argued about whether they should keep the make-shift gowns. Spencer convinced his friends that even though the gowns were weird, they should wear them, so they all looked the same.
Graduation spectators in the outdoor crowd wondered why five of the seniors looked like they were dressed as Halloween ghosts. Preston’s and Clifton’s mom worried that the natural sunlight made the gowns look pink. Word soon spread that the boys had been victims of pigs let loose in the school.
“Now that’s a real shame,” said Spencer’s grandfather. “Who in their right mind would play a trick like that on such good boys? Now poor little Spencer is stuck wearing an ugly pig gown.”
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