The Alias

I'm not exactly sure why I'm writing this under an alias.  I doubt anyone will read it and since Facebook has taught us that our lives are really truly boring with only brief exceptions, even people I know would likely not read it.  There are still things that will be off-limits, but I guess there are less things when it is under an alias and no one will read it.
There was an abandoned house near where Chad H lived when I was in junior high.  It was the initiation point for a lot of mischief and malfeasance.  This was in the days when a bike was a 10-speed and before beer came into our lives.  Looking back through the haze of 25 years, I remember it being a complete house that was run down with broken windows, doors and bashed in walls but still sound.  Likely it wasn't.  I also recall the remains of a silo and foundation for a barn.  In reality, it was probably pretty dangerous and was a house that had been trashed by tenants or the like, maybe even foreclosed on.  Mail was pretty stuff in a lot of crevices in the house and the last occupants had the last name of Horton.  Ted Horton became my alias on the few times we got caught doing something we shouldn't be doing.
On one occasion, Chad and I were in a wild area near Calvin College (clue as to who I am - geographically at least).  As was usual, we had our BB guns and I recall we were discussing whether we should shoot a ground hog.  College students doing some kind of outdoor project were none too amused and said we should never be seen there with the guns again.  Weeks later, we were there again...with BB guns.  We hid them before we were caught, but the jig was up.  Chad went back to the hiding spot and brought my gun back and handed it over to a student, who turned it over to a college professor.  Now, how to get a gun back, when my parents need to call and they don't know I have a BB gun (and would NOT have approved).  Well, call in as Ted Horton's dad and talk to the professor.  To this day, I absolutely can not believe this worked.  As Ted Horton's dad, I suggested Ted be forced to go to the professor so the professor could have a talk about the implications.  I did, had a talk with the professor about wildlife and appropriate behavior and such; he gave me my gun back.  A year or so later, this same professor gave a talk at our school.  The teacher doing the introduction mentioned this episode and my name.  Mortified, I thought it was over.  In reality, lesson learned and also likely a lesson for the College Professor that an early teen age kid could have pulled off such an obvious stunt.
I don't remember if I threw the gun away last year when I moved or not?  I had cut the barrel down and installed a hand grip at some point, rendering it pretty useless.  Too bad really.
So that is who I am.  Ted Horton.  Living in an abandoned house somewhere near Calvin College.