There are good boys and there are bad boys.

To be clear, I was not one of the good boys.

Was I some  budding homicidal maniac who would take his story as the killer next door to “Evil Lives Here”? No, not really.

I didn’t hurt anyone except for Danny Halloran in 4th Grade because he picked on my brothers. And I never tortured animals.  I would become a veterinarian at Lincoln Park Zoo, if I didn’t follow in Dr. Albert Schweitzer’s footsteps first to help heal the poor lepers of darkest Africa.

But was I good? No.

At 10-years-old, I was an altar boy at church and a Cub Scout.

But I was a hunter, a thief and a vandal just itching to get myself a real rap sheet.