The worst kinds of pranks

Posted by on April 2, 2012 at 10:06 pm.

I have never been very good at April Fools’ day.

The problem with having one day designated for pranks is that we’re all paranoid in expectation of them and when they do happen, they don’t always have the desired effect. Physical pranks especially seem to fall flat.

Fake stories can be done very well, but in the age of Facebook, they can also be done very poorly. So. Incredibly. Poorly. Still, it has always been the fake stories that I’m most likely to fall for on April Fools’ Day, especially from Jean.

The first, and still best, time she tricked me was our freshman year of high school when we’d only been dating for 6 months. Jean walked up to me (fake) teary-eyed in the hall at school and told me she was going to have to transfer out of our Catholic school into the public school closer to her home.

At 14, I would never accuse her of fabricating that sort of teenage drama. Because that would make me the bad guy when it turned out to be true. Also, I can never remember what the date is and April 1 is no exception. After a moment or two of my consoling her and Jean avoiding every question I asked, she broke out laughing, said “April Fools!” to me, and then walked off to her first class.

And she’s managed to get me with one story every year. But this year was different.

As soon as I woke up, I started brainstorming the best story I could. After trying for hours, I had nothing. Much later, the perfect idea arrived through what I must call divine intervention. I sent Jean a text message:

“At the hospital. Turns out I have a stomach parasite. Easily treatable, might be Twinkie related.”

Still unanswered an hour later, I followed up:

“Released. Feeling Much better. Have to take it easy for a couple days.”

This story was everything. Just serious enough to not give away the fact that it was joke while also not being life threatening. Unusual enough to not be expected. And based in truth considering I just wrapped up The Twinkie Experiment, a project to see how long it takes a Twinkie to go bad (about 50 days, in my quasi-scientific estimation).

When she finally called me, she immediately inquired about my medical experience and said I would certainly have to record a follow-up episode to explain the new developments. And then I got to use the phrase I’ve never gotten to use on my fiance before: “April Fools!”

James 1, Jean 9. It’s a start.

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