The Darndest Thing

Last Sunday I attended the yearly Christmas party for a non-profit I help support. Nice party, good food, lots of people. I talked for a while with the husband of one of the volunteers and found out we had some mutual acquaintances. He had gone to his junior prom with Carolyn Flournoy. His Sunday school teacher had been Mr. Flournoy..."The Admiral". One of the Triumvirate of Burford St. Admiral Flournoy, Father Stevely, and Mayor Shirley represented the three branches of neighborhood government; the military, the church, and the politburo. Coincidentally, they each had very attractive daughters.
Fr. Stevely and the Mrs. (unusual for a priest even these days) seemed to have warned their five blonde daughters that boys were the devil incarnate. Each girl waged her own brave spiritual warfare against fraternization up to about the age fifteen when the warnings actually began to seem like the truth. The local boys had acquired a WMD... Lee Gangloff. Up to that point the biggest gun in our arsenal had been the naughty Sea Shanty record Eric's dad had brought home from Hong Kong (Aboard the good ship Venus, you really should've seen us...Etc)
Mayor Shirley's greatest concern was his Hi-Fi system. It was tragically condemned to a lifetime of playing bagpipe records WAY TOO LOUD (to show off all the dazzling highs and rumbling lows that one would hear if they were wearing a live cat-fight as a hat). His son Scott was the keeper of the pool and had each guest sign a written vow not to spit in the water and submit to a DNA test whenever a random bubble was found floating on the surface.
Admiral Flournoy was a veteran of The Great Snow Battle of 1975 Or So. His landing craft (a white station wagon) took a direct hit amidships, but with no thought to his own personal safety, he left the vehicle in mid street to pursue the insurgent who had attacked his vessel. The local populace wouldn't point out the guilty party (me) and I managed to blend into the local surroundings.
The tech sector lived next door to the Admiral. The name escapes me (something Russian I think) but I fondly remember their donation of approximately ten cubic yards of fan-fold computer paper at our first fictional paper drive (usually used to supply paper to cover local cars). No one had that quantity of fan-fold just lying around in those days (or today either I guess). Quickly realizing it was a smoking gun, we elected to get the stuff out of sight by moving it directly from Tommy's wagon to the nearest storm drain.
Months later came the storm...
Then came the flood...
Then came the scuba divers.
Today it would probably be called enviro-terror and get referred to Homeland Security, back then the term used was "the darndest thing".