Where do you keep your ketchup?

Doing final book reports today:
One academically challenged, but creative little girl decided to make freckle juice for her book report on the book Freckle Juice by Judy Blume. The concoction is a foul one of vinegar and mayonnaise and pepper and such. She had prepared parts of it ahead of time and was mixing it in front of the class. We were all eager to smell the nasty potion firsthand.
"I'm sorry, but my mom didn't have any ketchup, which is the last ingredient." She smiled shyly, then joked, "Anybody got any ketchup?" I giggled at her little joke along with the rest of the class when-
"I got some!" a green streak darted out of my room and into his homeroom. I sighed. My reporter giggled and the rest of the class rolled their eyes. Stifler. Always Stifler.
"He has ketchup?" I queried in disbelief. "Ketchup? Where?"
"He steals it from the cafeteria and keeps it in his locker," replied one helpful little pumpkin. Well, of course he does, I thought. Silly me. Who doesn't keep ketchup in their locker?
"Here you go!" Stifler returned panting, arm extended, hand filled with ketchup packets. He grinned proudly.
"Um, why do you have ketchup in your locker? Don't you think that's kind of...unusual?" I tried to broach the subject kindly while suppressing my "you're a complete freak" eyebrow creeping dangerously near my hairline.
But Stifler wasn't troubled in the least. "I keep it until Friday, then take it all home. On the weekends we lay it on the street and then wait for cars to run over it." His beam of delight was so radiant I had to laugh. Only Stifler. (Seven days left.)