When I was a kid, before Beavis & Butthead appeared, there was this teenager up the street named Todd. Todd was exactly like Todd. He was the sort of mulleted appalachian character who belonged in Ross but whose family had oddly migrated to the comparatively civilized Catholic neighborhoods. Todd was always working on or at least leaning against a non-functioning 1970's Nova in his driveway with his buddy Travis, who had one of those white trash wispy mustaches as early as 8th grade. Iron Maiden was usually blaring from an unseen boom box in the garage.
Amongst the neighborhood boys, the activities of Todd and Travis were the object of intense speculation. These guys were above the law, and we were all secretly rooting for them. We felt lucky just to know such towering badasses.
One summer bags of trash and/or house paint (like all good rumors, nobody actually saw the damage) were thrown into the neighborhood pool. The incident lifted their credibility to dizzying heights, even though we had no evidence that Todd and Travis had in fact perpetrated the crime. We just really wanted them to have done it.