The Greatest Pranks Are The Ones You Commit Everything To

Pranks can be a good time, but they do, sometimes, present some risk. Some of the pranks that I played when I was younger, particularly in my earlier years, are not things I would attempt today. For example, when two girls that me and my college age buddy were constantly getting us, including things like toilet papering the tree in front of my house, or egging his car, or weird phone calls before caller i.d. was a thing, us guys set out on a mission to prove our superiority as pranksters. But what were we to do?

Then it came to us.

David, who's sadly not around to talk about this anymore, after some mental health struggles and him ending his life, came to me with an idea. I was, as I indicated, more daring in my twenties than I would call myself today. So, when he pointed it out, it was a good one that I wanted to do because it if there was such a thing as the Olympics of pranks, we'd have gotten the gold.

It all came together one evening, when I called the one girl up and told her how I thought we should all get together and cheer David up. He'd been legitimately morose, to say the least, over a break up with a young lady. She was, at that time in his life, "the one." Actually, she was the one that should have gotten him over the one, but he didn't see that as much as the rest of us. But I digress.

So, I called up the one girl, Trish, and told her what was up. She agreed to it and asked, what do you think we should do?

Most of us were in our early twenties, and we'd grown up listening to metal, rock and roll, and the famed sounds of MTV. There was also a place at the local lake, a place were anybody up to some shenanigans could get to if they were willing to hike in. So, I suggested, we get a couple of six packs, a boom box, and we head out there one nice spring night.

The temps were unseasonably warm, other than the still frigid feeling of the waters around the lake. We wandered out to the spillway around 9:30 when everybody got off work and was free. It was Saturday night, so we knew that there wasn't going to be any issue with us being "caught" out there or any authority wanting to know why we were there.

As we all enjoyed a cold one, listened to some tunes and stared up into the stars, pondering our futures and David pondering his "love life," he agreed that at some point he'd bring up his ex. When he did, he told me to say something that would infuriate him about her, and set the tone for an argument.

So, when he brought she who shall not be named up, I simply said, "Come on buddy, there are plenty of girls around here that are better for you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"Well..." I hesitated, both the girls having been preprimed for my opinion about his ex. "She was kind of a whore." She really wasn't, but I needed that derogatory comment that would set two friends on a path for a physical altercation.

It worked, as David tells me to take it back before he, "Kick your ass!"

Everybody knew I'd been going to self defense training, and hitting the gym alot. So, I laughed his threat off and told him to go for it if, "You've got the stones."

In the dark, it was really easy to throw a couple of pulled shots and make it look like they were real. David had to be very careful to keep them on my arms, shoulders, or head and back. As our altercation grew, the girls started to freak out. David winked at me, pushed be back toward the edge of the spillway, where there to this day is an eight foot drop into some murky waters.

Take it back tough guy, before I put a bullet in you, was the sign. I backed up, positioned myself, and challenged his manhood.

"You ain't got the balls to pull the trigger, tough guy," I told him.

He pulled the gun. Aimed it at me, and told me to take it back. That's when I took a step toward him, lunging a little.

The two shots rang out and I grabbed my torso near my sternum, hard enough to burst the homemade blood packs in the pockets of a tactical vest under my white button down. I stumbled, intentionally, as he fired a third shot. The shot rang out and I turned into the fall, falling the eight feet into the cold waters of the local lake spillway.

Waiting moments, until I heard their voices getting fainter, I softly swam over to the shore and worked my way through the darkness to the trail that would lead me to an access road. Now, this is where advanced planning comes into play.

My motorcycle was waiting for me, hidden by the brush along a slight stream. A change of clothes awaited me, as it would be far too chilly to ride in soaking wet clothes. Also, riding through town with what looks like blood stains on your shirt is a sure fire way to draw attention.

I knew I would get to the bike before they made it half way back to David's car, and David knew that I needed 20 minutes.

Racing home, I killed the breaker at the house we shared. Then, as there was already a dirt floor, I put on some glasses, grabbed a tube, and buried my now covered in completely black clothes self with dirt. I couldn't get it as perfect as I wanted, but it worked.

David and the girls arrived back at our place, much to their disliking. They were both telling him he needed to turn himself in when they came in the side door, and he was sellling the entire, just do what I ask before I need to decide what to do with you two, part of the story.

As they got inside, he announced that the breaker must've been out and he'd need one of them to come to the basement and hold a flashlight. They all came down, and as I heard him intentionally flipping the wrong switches, the girls were going on about how they couldn't believe he'd shot me and left me for dead.

David screamed at them, getting in their faces, telling them that was the last time he'd ever go to the spillway with anyone, and that was my que.

I sat up out of the dirt, stood up slowly, seeing his barely lit face looking my way.

"BOO!" I yelled.

The two mischevious pranksters never again toilet papered our trees, house, or cars. There was no egging anymore. And, best of all, we went down in history as the most ruthless pranksters of our group.

Ah, I miss David, and the Vocal + story idea Lamar Wiggins put up a post about got me to thinking about that prank, and the crazy old days.

David, sadly, passed away. I went on to be a sheriff's deputy, raise a son, and learn about the world. Trish is happily married and in the insurance game. The last time I saw the other one, she was working at Applebees, and looked like she hadn't aged since high school and college.

What can't you do with a prop gun, some cheap paint ball gear, a paint ball tactical vest, some corn syrup and red dye, and an overly exuberant imagination.