FAIR GAME:Harmful pranks just aren’t funny

I was driving home the other evening following a phenomenal dinner at Taco Rosa restaurant. I mention Taco Rosa because the food brothers Sergio and Ivan Calderon are serving is some of the best Mexican food I’ve ever eaten. Anytime. Anyplace.

But, that’s not the point of today’s column. The point is that on that drive home I noticed a full moon in the sky.

It answered a question that had been bothering me since earlier in the day about why people sometimes do the wacky stuff they do.

You see, earlier that morning I noticed out the front window of my home that my neighbor, Herb, who lives across the street, had had his house toilet-papered.

People who know me know I love a great prank. So my first inclination was to laugh.

It was one of those great T-P jobs we all dreamed about pulling off as kids. Toilet paper was thrown up and across Herb’s huge tree that shades almost his entire front yard. All the way to the top! Not once, not twice, but what seemed like 100 times.

There was toilet paper everywhere.

I know what you’re saying to yourself: Kids will be kids and that’s what they do when summertime arrives.

Hey, I even remembered doing it myself.

But here’s the problem. My neighbor and the recipient of the toilet paper attack, Herb, is 96. It was a pretty safe bet that if he had indeed caught the kids doing it, chances were they’d outrun him.

You see, a big day for Herb is just walking to his mailbox and back.

So imagine his surprise when he woke up that morning and saw the fun the neighborhood kids were having at his expense.

My daughter, who was also home with me at discovery time, thought that the prank played on “old” Herb was terrible.

In fact, in an almost pleading voice she said, “You know, Dad, you really ought to go over and clean it up for him.”

Me, I thought, what’s wrong with you?

Still, what she said made sense to me and in the end I even agreed that would be the right thing to do.

And so, I grabbed my keys and headed out the front door. Straight for my car!

Work was calling and Herb’s mess could wait.

Don’t forget the newspaper in the driveway, I thought. And keep your head down. Don’t make eye contact with anyone.

Then I got in my car and drove down the street, sunken down in my seat, looking at poor Herb’s tree in the rearview mirror.

Fortunately, when I got home that night someone, and I can assure you it wasn’t my daughter, had come to Herb’s rescue. His tree and the front yard had virtually become a T-P free zone.

I’d like to say my intentions that evening included a plan to go over myself and help Herb clean it up. But those who know me know I would be lying.

So you can imagine my sense of relief, following a somewhat guilty feeling all day knowing that some good Samaritan had come to Herb’s and, in a sense, my rescue.

So now we’d both be able to sleep better.

By the way, Herb, if there’s anything you ever need, don’t be afraid to ask.