UTE VENGEANCE

It was a normal day, wintry and cold. We had a good Christmas, the shopping mayhem was over and the Utes won their bowl game. Everything was going right. Yet things were quiet, too quiet. We had finished putting away our Christmas decorations, all but a few. It felt only appropriate to leave the one small tribute to Utah proudly glowing on our front porch. The Sugar Bowl victory just had to be savored a few more days...

Then as Jesse headed out the door for yet another normal work day, he saw IT. Or rather, it was what he DIDN’T see. The University of Utah Christmas lights we so proudly displayed on our front porch were gone, missing, stolen! In their place, a note written in haste: “If you Ever want to see your precious lights again, you’ll have to promise never to turn them on again and they’ll be returned with honor.”

Jesse dashed into the house yelling, “Our lights have been stolen, Honey!” I flew down the stairs in my pajamas. The expression on his face was strange, not quite devastated, but not quite smiling, something in between. A smirk maybe? He knew the game had begun. Quickly we concocted a plan - a mass e-mail offering a reward for any information leading to their safe return. We secretly hoped that through the e-mail perhaps the perpetrator would somehow leak a clue, leaving themselves vulnerable, an open target. The e-mail worked all too well. The only two suspects who didn't respond were the Gardners and the Litchfields, two very devoted and very guilty BYU families.
The following night, we gathered the "reddest" party decorations we could find and set out for justice. Marking the Gardners house seemed like the right thing to do. Red crate paper, balloons and sidewalk chalk quickly taught them that not only does our team WIN their bowl games, but our fans also have triumph and glory running through their veins. They were messing with the wrong MWC team, and they would come to know it.

Feeling proud of the mark we left, we scurried home admonishing the triumph with high-fives and bowls of ice cream. Little did we know the "blue tide" was coming in. For we awoke the next morning to yet another threatening note, coupled with blue vandalism in our snow:

With the eery letters “B. Y. U.” still etched in our minds, we knew the game was far from over. The perps would be caught, it was only a matter of time. If the Utes could win 13 straight games, then we could easily handle a few lousy cougars playing reindeer games.

To be continued...