P is for Prankster

As a participant in the A to Z Blogging Challenge, I will be making my way through the alphabet all month.

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As someone who loves a good prank, I enjoy April Fool's Day. I should have written about April Fool's Day on April 1 for A, but didn't think of it in time. April Fool's is my favorite day of the year and it time to pull out all the stops on my creativity. I have pulled my share of pranks over the years, both on this glorious day and throughout the rest of the year.

• Several years ago, a few of us went out the night before the first day of college classes to prank several of our professors. Using a car jack and some bricks, we raised their car axles just high enough that the tires were not touching the ground. The car appeared normal, but did not move when they stepped on the gas. Five professors were late to school the next morning.

• A college friend, Jayson Ferguson, later that year discovered a professor working late in his office one night. Upon leaving the building, he found a pile of cinder blocks to be used for a construction project starting the next day. A few quick phone calls provided the number of people necessary to haul the bricks into the building and block the prof in his office. Since his door opened inward, when he opened it to leave, he was met with a brick wall.

•  When my son Christian was eight years old, he wanted to go TP-ing for Halloween. We lived about 20 miles from town, which was too far to go buy any, and did not have toilet paper to spare. He and I walked to a neighbor's house, broke in, stole their toilet paper and then TP-ed their house with it.

• As a teenager, I had a friend that lived in a trailer with a flat roof. While he was at work, a few of us broke into his house and arranged the contents of his home onto his roof exactly as it was when it was inside the house. This included big items like the couch, entertainment center, beds, and dresser drawers. We even set the table for dinner.

• When my nephew was younger, he was fascinated with chickens. For his eighth birthday, when he opened his gift from me, a live chicken jumped out and started running around the room. It was a huge hit with the kids. The adults were not as amused.

• In college, when a neighbor went on vacation with his family one summer, a group of us broke into their house (yes, breaking and entering again), dug out their Christmas decorations and decorated their house. We put the lights up outside and erected the tree fully decorated. We used every item we found and turned the lights on. Their house was lit up for a week before they came home. It was July.

•  I had a job as a dishwasher at Bonanza when I was sixteen. One night while training a new employee, I warned him about the dangers of getting dish lung. I told him that the industrial strength dishwasher put so much water vapor in the air that breathing it for hours a day would cause a build up of water in your lungs making you drown when you laid down for bed. I explained that standing on his head at the end of each shift would drain his lungs and prevent a possible death. I demonstrated and dribbled water out of my mouth. As I explained, a co-worker in on the joke started coughing and spit up a bunch of water he had discreetly put in his mouth. The trainee quit that night.

•  In high school, our principal drove a tiny Mazda Fiat convertible. At lunchtime one day, when a guy making fun of the size of the car lifted the rear wheels off the ground, we decided to see if we could lift it completely off the ground. Discovering that we could, we placed it sideways in a nearby alley. The walls were less than six inches from the bumpers on each side.

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I learned this behavior from my father. One year after a fishing trip, after cleaning and gutting all the fish, he went to a friend's house and put the guts in the garden just outside their windows. He covered them with dirt just enough that they could not be seen. In a few days, their entire house stunk.

He terrorized his high school by burying a road-killed skunk in the window flower box of the English room. The stench got so bad the teacher opened the window to air out the room. Of course, this made it worse since it was just outside.

He also taped the hammers together inside the piano right before his graduation ceremony. When the class musician went to play, all the hammers struck at once. After a confused look, he tried again with the same result.

As you can see, I inherited this behavior. It is not my fault. It's just part of my genes. There's nothing I can do about it. Not that I want to.

2013 Goals

By 2013 Goals I don't mean 2,013 different goals. I am referring to goals for the year 2013. You may have figured that out on your own, but I just wanted to make it clear.

I don't generally make resolutions and I am not about to now. However, I do have some things in mind that I would like to accomplish in the upcoming year. Setting goals for yourself is not the same thing as making resolutions. Resolutions usually involve trying to improve yourself in some way. Since I wouldn't even begin to know where to start with that, I will let it slide. Plus, admitting any type of fault that needs to be worked on might cause Red to see a flaw in me that she is not aware of at this moment and I am going to try to maintain this perfect image she has of me for as long as possible.

Once again, resolutions involve making some sort of personal improvement. A goal is something you would like to accomplish and I do have a few of those in mind.

• My first class in the TESOL graduate program just started yesterday. I intend to never receive any grades lower than a 97% for the entire program. You can believe I will keep you posted, especially every time I meet that goal in a new class.
• Last year (2012) was a wonderful year. A large part of that was due to meeting Red. I know we have not given many updates lately, but things are going beautifully. I am making it a personal goal to make this year the best year she has ever had.
• In August 2011, I created The List. It is my list of things to accomplish before I die. Of the 150+ items I have on that list, I have only marked off one in the 17 months since I first posted it. This year, I will average at least one list item per month for a total of twelve or more before the end of the year.
• I want to maintain a steady blogging schedule. 120 posts for the year would break down to 2.3076923 posts per week. That's one post every 3.04167 days. Why does this have to be so complicated?
• I will read fifty books this year. This is close to one a week. It is not a lofty goal, but with me being in school, it should keep me reading things other than just my textbooks.

On a side note and totally unrelated to anything else so far, I have a request. Today, January 4th is my daughter Kirsten's birthday. She will be 17 and is very excited to be old enough to go to rated R movies on her own.

Sometimes, I think I should do my homework.. but I also sometimes think I should do crystal meth, but then I think... ehh, better not.
— Kirstey Minor (@KirsteyDahl) December 17, 2012

After you leave this page would you take the time to leave her a birthday wish either on her Twitter feed @KirsteyDahl or her Facebook Wall (Kirsten Minor). If you would like to make it extra special, include a picture of a windmill. She loves windmills. The bigger the windmill the better. Any picture of a windmill will work, but I included a few here if you would like to use them.

Actually, she doesn't really love windmills. She is scared of them for some reason. So if you think I am being cruel, just send her a Happy Birthday message. On the other hand, if you don't mind torturing teenagers, then send her a windmill also. Either way, she will be thrilled to get a bunch of messages coming her way from people she doesn't know. Since she doesn't read my blog, she won't know where this is coming from.


Happy Birthday, Kirsten!!!

Have a great year everyone.

Sibling Perceptions

Deep in thought

This post is a response to some of the questions I received on my November 27th post asking readers to submit questions. This series of questions came from my brother Kyle.

There are a few questions I like to ask everyone I run into, at some point.

1. Have you ever eaten a grasshopper?
2. Have you ever eaten anything, while it was still alive?
3. Do you have a fear of picnic tables? If so why?
4. When and what was your feelings, when you realized your younger siblings could take you down.
5. Have you ever been so considerate of your neighbors, that you asked them to leave for the weekend, because you didn't want your party to disturb them?
6. Have you ever gone to Six Flags while your brother sat in a hospital room awaiting surgery... on his birthday?
7. Has your hair ever resembled the tsunami wave that hit the cost of Japan?
8. Have you ever come home and found your household cabinets rearranged?
9. What is your favorite family memory from your childhood?

At first, I thought about skipping over these, but then decided that I better tackle them. Whether they were meant to be a joke or not, he would call me out on it. So here goes...


Have you ever eaten a grasshopper?

Yes, I have eaten several. I've had chocolate covered grasshoppers and grasshoppers coated with a nacho powder similar to the coating of a Doritos chip. However, I believe Kyle is referring to one specific instance that my mother loves to tell about.

When I was very young (I don't know the exact age), I was bugging my mother for some food. She was preparing me something, but I did not let up in asking. I must have been very hungry...OR a whiny, difficult child. I don't know which. Once she had fixed my plate, she found that I was already chewing on something. As she got closer, she saw the leg sticking out of my mouth. Apparently, she was not filling my belly fast enough and I had found a dead grasshopper in a windowsill.


Have you ever eaten anything, while it was still alive?

The answer to this question (like most of the others) is 'YES.' I have written before about the time I ate live octopus, but I didn't have to leave the country to eat live food.

I was in high school when I heard about goldfish swallowing and just had to try it. It really wasn't a big deal. Pop it in your mouth and wash it down with some water. I did use fresh tap water and not water from the fish tank. I have also eaten live earthworms a few times. They were pretty slimy, and I will still choose the worms over okra every time. The fish was better.


Do you have a fear of picnic tables? If so why?

I don't fear them, but I do keep a close eye on them. The worst accident I ever had involved a bicycle, a picnic table and a poorly constructed ramp. Due to the events of that day, I was knocked unconscious, missed weeks of school and still have back problems 30 years later. I will tell the entire story in a future post.


When and what was your feelings, when you realized your younger siblings could take you down?

You should ask him about
the time he tried to fly.

I expect that when that day comes, I probably won't be too happy about it.


Have you ever been so considerate of your neighbors, that you asked them to leave for the weekend, because you didn't want your party to disturb them?

Yes, again! Always mindful of my surroundings and never wanting to be a hassle to anyone, I try to be considerate.

About 15 years ago, I lived way out in the country and had a small^* gathering planned.

*For this 'small' gathering I had rented port-o-potties and had a stage constructed in my backyard for the evening's entertainment.

As the stage was being built and the bands started to arrive, it occurred to me that I did have one neighbor. It was my brother Kyle and his wife. They lived close enough that we shared a yard.  Never one to be rude, I informed them (with a proper 4 hours notice) that there may be some revelry lasting past nine o' clock. They were welcome to attend, but might be more comfortable spending the night some place else. They chose to leave for the night.

Which was a shame, because they missed a great party.


Have you ever gone to Six Flags while your brother sat in a hospital room awaiting surgery... on his birthday?

I almost wonder if some of these questions were designed to make me look bad. Nah! I'm sure it's just me.

The answer to this one is 'YES!'

I did do this, but made great sacrifices to make it happen. Our church youth group was going to Six Flags for a summer trip. We had purchased tickets weeks in advance.

Six months
of lugging him around

Kyle, without thinking, has a massive bicycle accident during his birthday party days before this trip. He is hospitalized and enjoying some great drugs while I am left holding his ticket for Six Flags. While Kyle was getting to enjoy the wonderful psychedelic world of medical grade hallucinogens, I have to find another person to use his  non-refundable ticket. I had to make two phone calls before I found someone to use it. It was awful.

In all honesty, I don't even remember the events of that day, but Kyle has six titanium rods in his knee as souvenirs to help him remember. I have nothing.


Has your hair ever resembled the tsunami wave that hit the cost of Japan?

Hey, I looked good.
Although, I get the feeling this is not
the picture Kyle had in mind.

Have you ever come home and found your household cabinets rearranged?

I have written about how some of my pranks involved breaking into someone's house. Growing up in the same house as Kyle, he tends to think the same way on some things and this is one of them. He and a friend broke into my house once and rearranged the contents of all my kitchen cabinets.

I had no idea anyone had been in my house until it was time for dinner. Nothing was where it was supposed to be. I ended up just leaving it that way.


What is your favorite family memory from your childhood?

I honestly don't think I could pick one. I am not someone who can complain about my childhood. It was great. I have tons of memories of running around in the woods with my brothers, exploring the countryside on our bikes, hanging out with friends, coming up with and trying out new stunts and lots of other things. My parents provided a wonderful house to grow up in.

Halloween Prepared

I stated in yesterday's post that I am not a fan of uninvited Trick or Treaters coming to my door. Once again, I have nothing against the practice, but participating is supposed to be optional. Knowing that I will be home tonight, but not planning to run to the door to hand out candy every five minutes, I have gathered a few items from around my house to give to the cretins who choose to knock on my door despite the signals saying "Stay away."

Namely, the unlit porch light and the huge sign on my front door that reads "STAY AWAY!"

For those misguided souls, I have a box beside my door of goodies to hand out so they will not walk away empty handed.

• Canned beets
• Subscription card for TIME magazine
• Bag of clothes originally intended for Goodwill
• Damaged XBOX 360 controller
• Empty bottle of True Blood
• Amway recruitment literature
• Rolls of Tums
• Math flash cards
• Stack of political door hangers
• A live hamster
• A dead hamster
• Keys to '76 AMC Hornet stationwagon
• Packs of Sweet n' Low for the diabetic children
• Expired Vicodin
• Three crayon halves (burnt sienna, fuzzy wuzzy, beaver)
• Dead Samsung phone battery
• Dental floss
• Blockbuster membership card
• Old issues of TV GUIDE
• Electrical tape
• KFC hand wipes
• A four of clubs 
• McDonalds' Monopoly board (4 Oriental Place markers included)
• VHS tape of Richard Simmons' Sweatin' to the Oldies
• Assorted blown fuses
• Ineffective smoke detector
  
• Twinkies with the creme filling sucked out
• Cassette tape of Jefferson Starship
• Toilet paper tubes
• Plastic drill index
• 2 dozen shrinkwrapped Windows NT 3.5 install CDs
• Ramen noodle flavor packets 

I am hoping that some parent will complain about the treat their child was given. I haven't had a good argument in a while.

Ideally, I won't have to hand out any of these items because people will be decent this year and stay off my porch. For the violators, I am prepared to follow them home and knock on their doors each night during supper until Christmas.

Morgan Freeman, We'll Miss You, But Not Yet

This morning started like any other. I got up, took a shower, ran Kirsten to school and took care of a few errands before I came back home. When I sat down to my computer and pulled up my Facebook page, I quickly saw this.

This sucks. I love Morgan Freeman. I suddenly felt the need to watch The Shawshank Redemption, but before I dug it out, I remembered news of him dying earlier this year.

I did what I always do when I see "news" on Facebook; I flipped over to Google and did a quick search. I do this for two reasons.

1. To satisfy my sick curiosity and find out what happened.
2. To validate the story.

It's a very simple process. I typed in the information I was curious about.

Doesn't that look simple

I was then met with several stories on the subject.

I got my answer without even clicking on any of these results.

This process took me approximately three seconds. Three seconds after seeing the story that Morgan Freeman was dead, I found out that it was a hoax. 3 seconds!!! However, the R.I.P Morgan Freeman page on Facebook has over 800,000 likes. That tells me that, with a few exceptions, almost one million people bought into this based upon what they saw on Facebook. This page is filled with people offering their condolences and talking about favorite movies of his. Plus, this is just one of over 20 other pages I found claiming the same thing.

Facebook is not a news source, people! It is true that I have learned of things on Facebook that were true, but I did not believe them until I verified them someplace else. Since people are so gullible, I think I may try to capitalize on the Facebook trusting public.

I am going to start a Facebook page about an invasion of hybrid earthworm-humans. Top secret government labs produced these hybrids with the intention of creating a thinking worm that could be directed to aerate the soil of farm land more efficiently to produce better crops. However, the worm men got too smart, escaped, and became aware of the rapidly deteriorating condition of the planet due to our mining of the earth's minerals. Being part worm, they care about stuff like that. The hybrids believe they have a solution to the problem and are demanding humans cooperate or they will excavate all the soil under the oceans causing them to collapse into the center of the earth to cave in on itself. This will cause death to everyone on earth except the most disciplined of survivalists. Their theory is that if the earth is going to die anyway, they might as well hurry it along. Of course, this could all be prevented with the cooperation of the guilty human race.

Send your gold to him now or suffer global destruction.

The solution is simple. They require massive amounts of precious minerals to create the chemical compound necessary to save the planet. They demand all people to send all their gold, silver, diamonds and other gems to one location so they can start the process of saving the planet. At the bottom of the page, I will list my address for all the people to send their riches.

Even if only 1% of the people who see the page buy into it, I should make a lot of money.

With Friends Like These...

Image stolen from the Dude Write site.
I don't know where they stole it from.

The dudes over at Dude Write have a slasher theme happening this week (since it is the 13th week) and it immediately reminded me of this story. However, I feel that I have to offer a disclaimer and a warning with this post. First, the disclaimer: I was not present for the following events. It is a story that my brother Trevor has told many times. I have heard it so many times, I am sure I can piece it together. Next, the warning: This post might get a bit graphic and since I haven't searched for the images to use with it yet, I don't know how bloody it might get. After the post about playing chicken, reader Marianne requested a heads up before subjecting viewers to such violent images. Even though this post is being written to be linked to the tough guys at Dude Write, there will be women reading as well, so I want to be polite. Be forewarned.

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Guys have certain rituals that may not be understood by the fairer species. Everyone has seen a guy punch a friend, casual acquaintance or even a stranger in the arm. The female equivalent would be to hug or jump up and down while screaming. This is just part of the bonding process that allows men to show affection towards each other without losing any appearance of masculinity.

In some contexts, this practice evolves into other forms. Back in the days when I frequented bars, it was not uncommon for a male to talk to another male while discreetly holding the flame of a lighter to the butt of the man he was talking to. Within a few seconds, the heat would raise the temperature of the denim to a degree that caused the victim to jump. Then, rubbing his seared rear, he would laugh with his friends as he joked that he had been gotten.

Not all men use the lighter to the butt prank, but they are practitioners of some similar practice that is common among their group of friends. This story is about one of these practices that had evolved into something ridiculously stupid a bit less subtle.

Several years ago, the bar that my brother hung out in was filled with men who had developed the practice of poking each other in the back of the knees. The purpose was quite simple. It was supposed to startle the victim and make him jump so everyone could laugh at him. Ladies, please don't judge. Most men are pretty easily entertained. Drunk men even more so.

The practice was fairly simple. Approach a man standing and talking with other men. Place object to poke him with directly behind one of his knees and then wait for him to step back. When he hits the object, the unexpected sensation causes him to jump and laughter ensues.

It didn't take long for the practitioners of this prank to discover that not just any object would deliver the intended result. For instance, a finger would simply cause the victim to turn around and ask, "What are you doing?" It might even get you punched. Using a pool cue wouldn't get you much more than a smirk. However, something sharp generally got the desired effect. A well-secured toothpick could supply hours of entertainment.

Eventually, someone ingeniously used his pocketknife to get the same result. Since most of these guys always had one on them, it quickly became the tool of choice for this favorite prank. That was how the practice of mixing alcohol and sharp objects came to be commonplace at this particular tavern.

One evening, John whips out his knife to steady it behind the knee of Brad to start the festivities. As he approaches the intended area, Brad jumps back in the midst of the story he is telling. The unexpected action causes the freshly sharpened blade to sink over two inches into Brad's flesh immediately severing an artery.

The blood is spraying out of the new wound and the people standing around are stunned silent as Brad is trying to figure out what just happened. John snaps out of his stupor and grabs some napkins. He and Trevor begin trying to stop the bleeding.

The two of them usher Brad into the bathroom to patch him up because everyone knows that the restroom is the most sterile place in a bar. Actually, they needed some privacy since they needed to remove Brad's pants to better access the wound.

Once in the privacy of the restroom and Brad's pants were removed, there was nothing to stop the trajectory of the still-spraying blood. Trevor and John had blood on their faces, shirts and all over their arms and hands. It was flowing freely down Brad's legs and they quickly realized they would not be able to fix this.

When you stab your friends, you should be better prepared.

As Brad is attempting to replace his pants, John and Trevor are using entire rolls of paper towels to clean the excess blood off the floor. The mess is everywhere and there are dozens of blood-soaked rags littering the floor. John slips in the blood, knocking Trevor and Brad both to the floor covering them in even more sticky mess.

They hear a scream and look up to discover a horrified man clawing to get back out of the bathroom. He had walked in to find what appeared to be three blood covered men (one with his pants around his ankles) fighting on the floor of the bathroom. He thought he was witnessing a murder.

As they help Brad out of the bathroom, John admits that Brad really needs to get to the hospital and tells Trevor to take him. Trevor exclaims, "I'm not taking him to the hospital. YOU stabbed him! You take him."

John was really concerned about getting in legal trouble for stabbing his friend in a bar, so they concocted a story about Brad cutting himself on some sheet metal. Due to loss of blood, Brad was losing consciousness, so they threw water in his face so he could wake up long enough to learn the story. Trevor still insisted that John take Brad himself, but did allow John to use his truck since it was older.

John drove off with his pale friend and Trevor returned to the bar for a much-needed drink. However, the bartender handed him a garden hose and sponge while silently pointing toward the bathroom.

(You Gotta) Fight For Your Right (To Party)

In my last post (read about it here), I told a few stories from my teenage years concerning events that happened when my parents were not at home. In that post, I briefly mentioned a party that I would cover in my next post. This is that post.

This was not the first time we had been left home alone. We were plenty old enough to not need constant supervision. Although, that may be debatable after reading this post and the last one. They would occasionally have an overnight somewhere, but this time they would be gone for several days. I don't remember where they were going or why we weren't going with them.

They left in the middle of the week and our small group of friends were at the house almost every night. By small group, I do mean a small group. It was other five guys that we spent most of our waking hours with anyway. Most of the nights that week were spent hanging out in the yard, drinking beer and just goofing off. There were a few mishaps, but that is to be expected with eight unsupervised teenagers.

When the weekend finally came, there was a party about a half mile from our house in an open field. For you folks raised in the city, this is pretty commonplace for country youth wanting to have a party.

There is a reason for the song.
Thank you, Toby Keith.

1. Locate a large open area with little to no traffic and away from any roads.
2. Spread news about location.
3. Buy a keg
4. Buy several hundred SOLO cups (very important)
5. Hire two big guys to stand by keg and charge $5 to drink for the night
6. Make a buttload of money

Since it was so close to our house and we knew that there was a reasonable chance of consuming massive amounts of alcohol, we decided to walk. Normally, when parties were held at this location, walking would be out of the question, because stumbling into the yard when your parents are home rarely ends well. For my brother Trevor, drinking and returning home at all was usually a bad idea. On one occasion, his friends pulled into the driveway, dumped him in the front yard and sped off before their car could be identified. They did their job as friends to get him home safely, but weren't about to personally look my parents in the eyes and hand him over.

Apparently, these kids don't understand the
significance of the red SOLO cups.

We arrived at the party to over a hundred other teens exercising their right to have their rights removed if they caught. It was a great time. Dozens of pick up trucks with their tailgates down to sit on and visit with your friends. Various cars had their doors open and stereos playing. Some cars were parked on the perimeter facing in with their headlights on to give light. It was your typical teenage redneck country party. We were having a blast and were much more carefree than usual because we didn't have to worry about driving or sobering up before heading home.

Things changed about eleven o'clock when it started raining. Since we were out in an open field, there was no shelter. Once everyone realized it wasn't going to let up, that was the end of the party. As everyone was driving out along the lone tractor lane that accessed the field, several cars stopped to offer us rides. A few, realizing the irony of us walking intoxicated back to our house, learned of our parents being out of town. Word spread through the crowd pretty quickly. After accepting one of the offered rides, I was dropped off at my house to discover that about 30 people were already there. Luckily, one of those people was the owner of the keg, so the party continued.

As much fun as we were having, we were very much aware of the fact that this was happening in my parents' home and we did our best to protect it, short of asking everyone to leave.

• I recognized the queasy look on a girl's face in time to grab a large mixing bowl and catch the noxious fluids flowing from her stomach, thus saving the carpet.
• We made people pay attention to where they put their drinks to prevent them from spilling. Plus, we didn't need any rogue evidence being left behind to be discovered later.
• A girl decided she needed a bath and passed out in the tub in our only bathroom. Trying to be a gentleman, I declined to go in when she wouldn't answer (most bathers are naked), but was worried she would drown. I finally got one of her friends to check on her. She was out cold and I had to go in anyway to help get her now slippery body out of the tub.
• We kept the vacuum handy to take care of spilled ashtrays and various other messes.

It was a very stressful evening, but we felt we had a handle on it. The sun was just started to peek over the horizon about the time the revelry was coming to an end. People were passed out in various states of undress all over the living room and kitchen. I collapsed in a chair and quickly fell asleep.

A few hours later, I was snapped awake by a knocking on the door. The bright sun stung my eyes and I carefully stepped over the bodies still littering the floor. I tripped over a pair of pants and was wondering what they were doing there. I looked around the room and noticed that a few people had lost a portion of their clothing over the course of the night, including one girl that was clothed in only a sock. There were several other people in their underwear and a few girls that were topless. Whether these people had disrobed voluntarily or been pranked by someone in their drunken stupors was beyond me, but the person at the door knocked again, so I continued my journey across the living room.

I opened the door to two smiling faces who asked if they could have a moment of my time to tell me about Jesus. They were the Jehovah's Witnesses that had been canvasing our area for the last couple of weeks.

Under normal circumstances, I would have turned them away. However, I was suddenly acutely aware of the condition of the room I was standing in and despite my alcohol-induced haze and wanging headache, I love to watch people squirm when uncomfortable, so I invited them in.

I stepped back so they could come inside and waited as their eyes adjusted to the light. The toothy smiles vanished as they scanned the room. One of them started to turn back toward the door and quickly decided against it. He slowly began to smile again while the other one still stood with his mouth hanging open.

The smiling one asked, "Would there be a better time to come back?"

I waved my hand and replied, "No. I'm not doing anything right now. You caught me on a good day. Let's go to the kitchen. Would you like some coffee? Oh, watch your step."

The three of us started working our way through the room stepping over half naked teens. I bent down to pick up a bra, "Sorry. The house is a bit of a mess."

As I held up the bra, the one who still wasn't smiling, but had started to sweat profusely, took a quick step back onto the leg of the naked girl. She shouted an obscenity and punched his foot. "Watch where you're going, idiot!"

He immediately ran out of the house leaving the smiling one behind. As soon he got outside, I could hear him crying.

"Is something wrong with him?" I asked in my best confused, innocent voice.

He grinned bigger than ever and said, "He must have forgotten something in the car." He handed me a copy of the Watchtower and said he would go check on him. He slowly turned and chose his steps very carefully over the sleeping drunks. Once outside, he helped his sobbing partner into the car and they sped off.

I carefully found my way back to the chair and fell asleep smiling, knowing the party was a success.

April Fools - Fun for Some

As someone who loves a good prank, I enjoy April Fool's Day. However, it's the day of the year that you have to step it up a notch, since so many people are on their toes and watching for it. I have pulled my share of pranks over the years, both on this glorious day and throughout the rest of the year.

• Several years ago, a few of us went out the night before the first day of college classes to prank several of our professors. Using a car jack and some bricks, we raised their car axles just high enough that the tires were not touching the ground. The car appeared normal, but did not move when they stepped on the gas. Five professors were late to school the next morning.

• A college friend, Jayson Ferguson, later that year discovered a professor working late in his office one night. Upon leaving the building, he found a pile of cinder blocks to be used for a construction project starting the next day. A few quick phone calls provided the number of people necessary to haul the bricks into the building and block the prof in his office. Since his door opened inward, when he opened it to leave, he was met with a brick wall.

•  When my son Christian was eight years old, he wanted to go TP-ing for Halloween. We lived about 20 miles from town, which was too far to go buy any, and did not have toilet paper to spare. He and I walked to a neighbor's house, broke in, stole their toilet paper and then TP-ed their house with it.

• As a teenager, I had a friend that lived in a trailer with a flat roof. While he was at work, a few of us broke into his house and arranged the contents of his home onto his roof exactly as it was when it was inside the house. This included big items like the couch, entertainment center, beds, and dresser drawers. We even set the table for dinner.

• When my nephew was younger, he was fascinated with chickens. For his eighth birthday, when he opened his gift from me, a live chicken jumped out and started running around the room. It was a huge hit with the kids. The adults were not as amused.

• In college, when a neighbor went on vacation with his family one summer, a group of us broke into their house (yes, breaking and entering again), dug out their Christmas decorations and decorated their house. We put the lights up outside and erected the tree fully decorated. We used every item we found and turned the lights on. Their house was lit up for a week before they came home. It was July.

•  I had a job as a dishwasher at Bonanza when I was sixteen. One night while training a new employee, I warned him about the dangers of getting dish lung. I told him that the industrial strength dishwasher put so much water vapor in the air that breathing it for hours a day would cause a build up of water in your lungs making you drown when you laid down for bed. I explained that standing on his head at the end of each shift would drain his lungs and prevent a possible death. I demonstrated and dribbled water out of my mouth. As I explained, a co-worker in on the joke started coughing and spit up a bunch of water he had discreetly put in his mouth. The trainee quit that night.

•  In high school, our principal drove a tiny Mazda Fiat convertible. At lunchtime one day, when a guy making fun of the size of the car lifted the rear wheels off the ground, we decided to see if we could lift it completely off the ground. Discovering that we could, we placed it sideways in a nearby alley. The walls were less than six inches from the bumpers on each side.

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I learned this behavior from my father. One year after a fishing trip, after cleaning and gutting all the fish, he went to a friend's house and put the guts in the garden just outside their windows. He covered them with dirt just enough that they could not be seen. In a few days, their entire house stunk.

He terrorized his high school by burying a road-killed skunk in the window flower box of the English room. The stench got so bad the teacher opened the window to air out the room. Of course, this made it worse since it was just outside.

He also taped the hammers together inside the piano right before his graduation ceremony. When the class musician went to play, all the hammers struck at once. After a confused look, he tried again with the same result.

As you can see, I inherited this behavior. It is not my fault. It's just part of my genes. There's nothing I can do about it. Not that I want to.

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I do have a prank planned for today, but the specifics will not be mentioned in case my intended victim is reading this morning. Be warned, if you are within driving distance of me, it might be you and knowing that it is coming will not make any difference.

I asked my niece to explain what today is all about.

Grand Theft Auto - Kindergarten Style

Not actual car, but closest I could find.

My brother Kyle drove a 1974 AMC Javelin when he was a teenager. He loved that car.

One night, as he was driving home, the car broke down. He pulled over to the side of the road and discovered he would need a few tools to get it running again. Since it was well after dark, it would have to sit until morning. We lived out in the country and knew the car would be safe until then.

The next morning the trip to get the car was a little delayed because we had family come in from out of town. After visiting with them for a few hours, he enlisted me to drive him out there.

We took Kyle's second vehicle. It was a large flatbed truck used to haul water. Kyle had a water hauling business. At the time, we lived in an area that did not have water lines. Everyone in the area got their water from a well. Using a well for your water supply means that you have a limited amount of water and it is possible to run out. If someone went empty they would pay Kyle to come out and refill their well.

Our visiting family members included our 6 year old cousin, Fred. He was fascinated by the large truck, so we asked him if he wanted to go for a ride. He was thrilled to get to climb up in the cab with us. We were soon on our way.

After driving a few miles, Kyle points at his car and says, "Look at that. Someone left a car on the side of the road."

Fred had never asked us where we were going and had never seen this car before. He didn't know it belonged to Kyle. He looked up over the dashboard and commented on how cool it was. I suggested we pull over to get a better look at it.

Kyle pulled his truck up in front of the Javelin and we all get out. Kyle and I watch Fred admiring the car. As Fred is looking in one of the windows, I open the side door. "Hey, look. It's unlocked."

Fred's eyes opened wide. "You can't do that."

Kyle told him, "Relax. There's no one around."

No one for miles.

We lived in a farming community and this was one of those areas where a house could not be seen in any direction. It was all fields, but Fred stood his ground.

As Kyle climbed into the car, Fred protested again, "Get out of there. The cops will get you."

I open the hood and yell, "Hey, Kyle, I think I see the problem."

Fred yells at both of us, "I want to go back. Let's leave."

Ignoring Fred's pleas, Kyle joins me at the front of the car and says, "I think I can fix this. Hey, Fred, grab those tools under the driver's seat."

Fred: "No."

Me: "Fred, the quicker we get this car going, the faster we can get out of here. Now hurry."

Fred hangs his head and slowly walks to the truck. He retrieves the tools and comes back to stand beside us. He stood there looking at the tools in his hands, contemplating whether he should be an accomplice in this crime he did not want to commit.

Kyle: "Give me the tools and go behind the truck and watch for cars."

Fred: "What?"

Me: "We need you to keep watch in case someone comes."

Fred: "I don't want to. I'll wait in the truck."

Kyle: "Fred, at this point, if someone comes, we will all get busted. Now, help us out and go watch for cars."

Fred, moving slower than ever, shuffled over to the other side of the truck so he could get a clear view of the road. Kyle begins working under the hood. I assist with my limited mechanical abilities (which usually means turning the key when Kyle says to). We soon forgot about Fred out there keeping us safe.

After a few minutes, we hear Fred scream. I look up and see him come running around the corner of the truck yelling, "CAR! CAR! There's a car coming!"

Fred runs by us and dives into the ditch. Kyle and I quickly take our places hiding behind the car as well. Trying not to laugh, I start to say something to Fred, but he cuts me off and puts his finger to his lips, "SHHHHHH!"

Once the car got by us, Kyle and I stood up. Fred yelled, "Not yet, they could still see us. Get down!"

Once he felt it was safe, he stood up, gave us a dirty look and went back to his place behind the truck without any of us saying a word.

Kyle soon had the car started and we yelled for Fred. I hopped in the Javelin to drive it back and told Fred to get in. He said he was not getting anywhere near the car and climbed in with Kyle in the truck.

On the way back to the house, Kyle was explaining to Fred that he couldn't tell anyone about this. He had to keep his mouth shut until he repainted the car. Fred just sat there with his arms crossed and did not talk all the way back.

Back at the house, I parked the Javelin in the garage and closed the door. Kyle parked behind the house and I helped Fred out of the truck. Before going inside, we reminded him once again that he could not tell about what we had just done. He nodded his head.

We walked to the house and as soon as I opened the door, Fred bolted inside. He ran up to his mother and the little narc spilled out the whole story in one breath.

"MOM, I DIDN'T WANT TO, BUT THEY MADE ME. I GOT SCRATCHED AND WET HIDING IN A DITCH AND THE COPS ARE COMING, BUT I DIDN'T DO IT. IT WAS THEM. THEY TOLD ME NOT TO TELL AND THEN PUT IT IN THE GARAGE. I GAVE HIM A WRENCH BUT IT WASN'T MY FAULT. I DIDN'T WANT TO."

When he paused to take a breath, his mother, alarmed by the excited state of her son said, "Wait, what happened?"

Fred hung his head and cried, "We stole a car."

She looked up at us. Kyle and I looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders and went back outside.