You picked the ignition? Was the only security on the rig a door lock?
If a college dorm mother counts as a “family member”…
When I was a freshman in college, our dorm mother took a weekend off, leaving the hall proctors in charge of the dorm. Big mistake. As the lead hall proctor of the first floor, I conceived a fiendish scheme.
All the girls from the first floor went out and bought as many packages of Jell-O as we could afford. We picked the lock to the dorm mother’s suite and entered her bathroom, where we ran the tub full of steaming-hot water and poured all the powdered Jell-O in. The many different flavors, when mixed together, smelled rather good, but looked dreadful. The next morning the tub contained a greyish-brown, partially solidified goo. If you’ve seen the movie “The Blob,” you get the idea.
When the dorm mother returned to her suite, we expected shrieks and accusations, but she was a very cool old lady. She never said a word, which disappointed us so badly that we didn’t pull any more pranks on her.
It was a wafer/sidebar ignition cylinder which I recognized from the make of tractor. Further dialog will likely run afoul of board rules, so we won’t go there.
My last boss had a private line in his office that was not connected to our telephone system. Excepting him I was the only other person in the office allowed to answer that telephone.
One Saturday I decided to go work at the office to finish something that needed to be ready on Mon. The phone starts ringing and I get out of my office and into my boss’ and answer.
-Is this [Popular Game Show]?
-No, sorry, you got the wrong number.
Back to my office. The telephone rings again. Same woman, same conversation. Apparently his private number had been a number at this game show, we never knew because the show runs on Saturday and nobody was ever there in the office to pick it up.
She kept calling, and I kept telling her that it was the wrong number (I was waiting for a call from my boss in that line). At about the 7th time I had had it with the interruptions and decided to do something about it. When the phone rang again I checked the caller ID, same woman. The exchange went like that:
-Thank you for calling [Popular Game Show]. How may I help you?
-Thank goodness, I have been calling for a long time and kept getting the wrong number. I have the answer to the question in your contest.
-Very good, what is the answer then?
-“So and so”.
-Correct. Congratulations. Can I please have your name and telephone number?
- “Name and tel. no.”
-Very good, please come next saturday to pick up your prize at the TV station.
I wonder whatever happened.
My high school track coach had a Triumph - TR-3 (?).
He used to park it right next to the auto shop doors. One day, 8 or so of us picked it up, and snuck it into the shop. We put it up on 4 of those rolling lifts, the kind you crank up by hand? And moved it out of the shop into the hallway through the plastic curtains that passed for doors.
He not only reported it stolen, but the next morning when it was found, had to explain to the principal (who for some reason, blamed him) how he got it in there.
It isn’t a prank, per se.
A friend of mine attended a very strict Catholic college that was more backwards that I can ever describe during my one weekend there, where I became a bit of a legend for buying beer and carrying it across campus in a brown paper bag and some older man kept asking me what was in the bag.
My response was a very unlike me, NOYB and when he said he was the dean of the school and there is no booze or drugs allowed on campus I told him with more gusto in my voice that he would need a search warrant to go through my belongings as I was not a student at this school. (This behavior was completely unlike me at all, but the guy was an asshole.) It was graduation weekend so things were hopping.
Soooo.
Within minutes of my arrival at my friends dorm ( a 3 story stalag) I was greeted by the RA, who was the most uptight person and most unliked gal in the school and told that if I did have any booze I would be thrown off campus, blah blah blah. I had no car, knew no one else in a 500 mile area, but I was not afraid.
Naturally, I had all these extremely sheltered girly girls who are all advising me to dump the beer or hide it out in the woods. I, who was a sheltered girl myself was clearly a rebel at heart and there was no way I was dumping my beer.
Absolutely not.
I hid it.
In the building.
In two places.
One was the shower drains were a little bit bigger than a can of beer and held two cans nicely. Three showers took care of a six pack. Sweet!
The other pack?
Weeeellllll, lets just say that the RA had the poshest room in the dorm with her own bathroom. I hid the six pack in the tank of her toilet.
I was treated that weekend to some serious drinking because of my wild ways.
YAY!
To get this prank, you have to understand the psyche of the bass fisherman. Size is everything, egos are large.
A buddy and I went fishing, looking for large bass. This happened in February at Lake Fork, just East of Dallas. A legendary bass lake.
It was cold and miserable, we caught few fish. I had caught a couple in the 7lb range, not much to crow about. My buddy had caught nothing until he caught a little dink, maybe 6 oz. I caught him off guard and told him to pose with his “monster”, he did. The trip was so uneventful, I never had the film developed.
So fast forward to the following February. The same buddy and his entire bass club were going to Fork again. We talked about how miserable it had been the year before, some fishing small talk. Then I remembered I had some pics from our previous trip and got the roll of film developed. And there it was, the pic of him with his dink.
They were to leave early Thursday morning, returning Sunday evening. Thursday afternoon I was at the sports desk of the local paper. The sports guy luckily knew nothing about fishing. I told him my buddy would really like to have his picture in the paper, but was much to modest to ask himself, so I would like to submit a picture for him. The sports guy bought the story, hook, line, and sinker! Had his picture and a caption with his name, the lake, and the name of his bass club.
The picture made the sports page of the Sunday morning edition. Everyone who knew him, except those in the bass club, saw the embarassing picture. They started calling his wife, but she couldn’t understand how the picture already made the paper, they weren’t home yet.
When he got home Sunday evening, he knew he’d been had. And knew who did it. When he got to work Monday, a copy of the pic was taped to the door of his office. And one on his desk. He has to deal with the public, people recognized him as “the guy with that little bitty fish”.
I called his office, the girl who answered the phone couldn’t stop laughing. He wouldn’t take my call. I finally got through by telling them a different name. When he picked up, I said, “This is Ben Had with the Society of Sorry M’Frs”. He told me how much grief it casued him. Oh, and the bass club had a meeting that Tuesday. I understand several of the members wanted their copies signed.
I keep a copy of the newspaper as a trophy.
I had previously worked with the guy, and he was a notorious practical joker, I feared revenge for a while, never happened. My previous best prank on him was to suck the straw of his soda (the kind in a large cup with a lid) full of very hot hot sauce. Sucked it nearly full, put my finger over the end, and stuck it back in. He didn’t suspect a thing when he took a big gulp off of it, expecting cold, refreshing soda and got blisteringly hot pain and fire. I wasn’t in his office when he took the fateful sip, but those who were said it choked him up and got into his sinuses, messed him up pretty good!
Now, if I was you, I’d have taped 10 minutes of silence, followed by 1 minute of the alarm, followed by 10 minutes of silence, followed by 1 minute of the alarm…
It was one year ago, while down at Cannon AFB, Clovis NM, that one of my sergeants came up with this idea—and we played it to the hilt.
As you can imagine, striking one’s superior isn’t a very good idea. When a sergeant strikes an officer, that’s grounds for immediate incarceration and court-martial. Anyway, we connived to have one of our other Staff Sergeants (SSgt “X”) who was prone to anger outbursts shove one of our newbie Lieutenants (“Y”), in plain view of our senior Master Sergeant on the construction project. MSgt “Z”, as we will call him, looks exactly like Schneider from ‘One Day at a Time’, and is pretty straight-laced: very ‘by-the-book’, and usually a little tense.
We set the plan in motion. I corral MSgt Z about 50 yards away from ‘the scene’ and get his back turned to the area. Lt. Y, approaches SSgt X about some minor thing, and they being to raise voices. SSgt X throws down the shovel in his hands, and starts screaming in two or three languages, all the while coming closer to Lt Y. Lt Y defensively backs up.
At this point MSgt Z and I look over and notice the commotion—as do some other bystanders who are totally clueless to the whole thing. SSgt X begins yelling—I mean flat out yelling—at Lt Y and does that masculine “You wanna go?!?” widearm stance, getting into Lt Y’s face. Lt Y keeps backing up . . . until SSgt X hauls off and shoves Lt Y.
Instantly, bystanders are on SSgt X, holding him back while he’s yelling “Come on! Come on!! YOU WANT A PIECE! LET’S GO!!” MSgt Z and I are in a flat out sprint to the scene. Immediately, MSgt Z parts the crowd, and I temporarily ‘throw’ SSgt X into our on-site office trailer for holding until I can figure out what’s going on. I head over to Lt Y and start ‘asking questions’. MSgt Z is f*ckin’ livid, and is segregating people by: “What did you see? Nothing? You’re done. Go over there.” He’s slowly pulling out his cellphone, and in front of him, I tell him that Lt Y is considering calling the base police and, “If he doesn’t want to, I’m going to. . .” getting MSgt Z wound up even further.
We play the questioning/segregating witness thing further when SSgt X pops his head out of the trailer and asks, “Can I come out yet?” I yell back 50 yards at him, “GET THE F*CK BACK IN THAT TRAILER, NOW!” That got a few people looking outside of buildings around us. . .
We continue the escalating drama, trying to ‘sort out what happened’, until I deliver the final ultimatum: “Sergeant Z, I have one sergeant in that trailer, who I am ready to have locked up and prosecuted. I have one Lieutenant over there who has lost credibility, and has lost his temper. I can’t believe we have sergeants striking officers over stupid things like sunglasses . . .”
” . . . and I can’t believe I have a Master Sergeant who doesn’t realize it’s April 1st, and that he’s just been had!”
MSgt Z’s face went from tense to shocked in zero point six seconds, and the laughter was so much, I had the unknowing bystanders in tears. Z was so . . . deflated, he just said, “Alright, that’s it. Everyone take the rest of the day off. . .”
For the record, everyone was in on it, and no, we never did press charges. We still laugh our asses off about it to this day.
Tripler
Happy April Fools Day, “Z”.
My friend and I used to write, print and mail our club’s newsletter. Being crude yet artistic, some articles were typed, some hand-lettered. I noticed that if we timed it right, we could mail the April issue to arrive on the week before. On the front page of each newsletter was the hand printed announcement:
April Fools party!
Saturday April 1st
5pm until - ?
Food and Beer provided!
firepit and crashspace provided!
Just bring your best friend and sleeping bag!
At: your name’s
Address:Your address
phone:your phone number
I just left the name, address and phone number blank when I went to Kinko’s and hand wrote each one in with a black felt tip pen, it looked photo-copied. Everyone called thinking that their address and phone number was on all of the copies. we had about 30 or so people on our mailing list and we had people who got it right away, people who were pissed, people who called in panic and said “I can’t have a party here, my mom’ll kill me!” It was hilarious.
Oh, I got a couple more. Not mine, but I was witness to them. The first was basically a prank on me, the next was a prank on the general public.
My brother is a notorious joker, and not afraid to say anything. Once he was giving me a lift somewhere and he decided to go through the Taco Bell drive-thru. He made his order, and the clerk said through the intercom, “Would you like any sauce with that?” to which my bro replied, “Just your love sauce, man.” I was shocked/laughing my arse off and told my brother he had guts to say that. When we pulled up to the window it turned out the clerk was a guy my bro had gone to school with and they recognised each other’s voices, but I had no clue.
The second incident was again with my bro and some mutual friends in the liquor store one night. As we were browsing a ransom one of his buddies happened to walk in. “Hey, you dirty Spic!” My brother yelled across the store. “Hey, you lazy half-breed!” the guy yelled back. I LOL’ed like crazy. This was the way they greeted each other often, especially when there were unsuspecting people around. The other patrons in the store looked at them with cow eyes, afraid a fight was going to break out or something.
I went to Mardi Gras with a work buddy of mine. It was a good time, and during the festivities he met a cute girl named Joy, who was going to college in Baton Rouge. He fell for her in that good old “I’m never going to see her again,” kind of way, and spent some time with her over a couple of days.
After we returned, I was sitting at my desk and got a call from one of my favorite suppliers. He asked about the trip and I told him we had a good time and didn’t elaborate. He mentioned that he was going to call my buddy, and asked if there was anything he needed to know. I told him, all he needed to say is that his neice, named Joy, was down at Mardi Gras, because she was a student at Baton Rouge, and she met some guy who worked at Chrysler.
My buddy fell for it hook line and sinker. Ah that was great.
Some minor pranks on this same buddy were, I photoshopped him out of a team photo he had displayed on his desk. I also switched the M and N and the I and O keys on his keyboard (he was a hunt and peck typer), he couldn’t login for 2 days because his password had one of those letters in it.
I had a co-worker who was a groupie for whomever was the “flavor of the day” male act at the time.
Jason Mraz was popular at that time and had just done a concert in town that she had been at. At work it was all she talked about. Then she went on line and signed up for his fan club.
Seeing this I went to hotmail and created a new account with user name something like JasonMraz29@hotmail.com. Then I wrote her a nice e-mail claiming to be him and saying how he noticed she had just signed up for his fan sight and liked to e-mail his fans directly. I asked how she liked the concert and what she liked to do in town.
Suprisingly she fell for it hook-line-and sinker. I was in my cubical and could barely contain my laughter. Before I could tell her it was a prank she had went around the entire office saying how Jason Mraz had written her and how they were going to hang out next time he was in town.
Later that day I confided in another co-worker and told them what I had done. They said I was a horrible person for doing such a thing but thought it was funny but thought it would be a bad idea to ever tell her. So I didn’t. That was about 2 years ago.
Recipe for a prank…
(2) Class clowns in high school.
(4) Large plastic 5 gallon pails.
(1) Large pile of dry ice discarded outside the cafeteria shipping doors.
(1) Decorative water fountain located in the center of the school, between the library and the main office.
(2) Paper grocery bags and scissors.
Cut eye holes in paper bags and wear over head to cover faces.
Fill 5 gallon pails to brim with dry ice.
Run through hallway and unload pails of dry ice into main hall fountain.
Flee the scene, trash the bags and pails and return to hallway to enjoy offices and library filled 3 feet high with thick fog.
Listen to morning announcements with the vice principal pleading for the perps to turn themselves in.
Ahhhhhhhhh memories…
.
Taped a nurse to her chair.
Q
During the days of BBS’s I left a message in a public forum saying that I had just gotten a brand new 1200 baud modem and was giving away my 300 baud for free. Gave them the phone number of a friend who knew nothing about computers. For a week he had to put up with nerds calling him and asking for something called a modem.
A friend let his laptop unattended so I opened up sound recorder and recorded me shouting “HAY GUYS! LOOK AT ME! I’M LOOKING AT GAY PORNO!!!”. Then, I set it to his low battery sound. It took, I think, about 5 months before he finally got stung by it but it was in the middle of a 300 strong 3rd year law class. I wasn’t there to see it but by all accounts, it was hilarious.
In my first year of college I was great friends with this Jamacian girl who was as black as midnight. We used to have fake racist fights everywhere. So we would be with a bunch of friends including one random person who didn’t know about our history. Everything would be going great for the first half hour and then I would “accidentally” slip a potentially sensitive remark. She would take slight umbrage at this and demand an apology. I not only refused to apolologise but gradually moved on to more and more racist remarks ending up in massive screaming matchs. All of my friends would be acting appropriately horrified at this exchange, making the random stranger feel increasingly uncomfortable as to having witnessed this exchange. Gradually, the sheer ridiculousness of my comments would reveal that it had been a joke all along.
Finally, I’ve never had the guts to do this myself but I’ve always regarded it as the classic prank. In order to do this, you just need a condom, a pencil and a bottle of hand soap. Your at a party and you find someone drunk, passed out on the floor. You pull down thier pants, squirt a pump or two of hand soap into a condom, use the pencil to shove the condom into their ass and then wait for them to wake up. Hilarity, I am told, ensues.
I was the victim of a good one Saturday morning. I was staying at my room mate’s house while her family was out of town. I awoke to a two alarm going off loudly and after a few minutes of Rico Suave on the radio I gave up trying to sleep and went to shut the dang thing off. The song was coming from her brother’s room so I walked in turned to alarm off and turned around to see a man in a paintball mask holding a bat. I, of course, scream, then realize it’s a friend of ours from school. I promptly punch said friend and go to get dressed after such a rude awakening. Later I walk into the bathroom to brush my teeth and find another friend in a very large robe and mask this time there was no scream just a lung popping gasp and “I hate you so much!” Let’s just say that my bladder control was tested and found to be in good condition. They better watch out this weekend I’m up for revenge.
Me and some friends climbed a Sea World billboard in the middle of the night, delfated a giant blow-up Orca, inserted a “leg”–jeans stuffed with newspaper, complete with shoe attached at the end–into its mouth, and then reinflated it for all to see on Newport Boulevard on their morning commute the next day.
I wish I could say it was my idea, but I DID get to climb the billboard and help in the process.
Ah, high school. Good times.
The idea came from a friend’s mother, who had always wanted to do it but, well, she was a mom.
I lived in a town where one of the focal points (practically the only one, if you want to know the truth) was a giant petrified tree stump surrounded by a chain-link fence. It has obviously been a massive tree, broken off about 8-10 feet up and, like I said, protected behind a 5-ft. chain-link fence.
So very early (think 12:01 a.m.) April 1 with spring in full bloom we got a bunch of branches from my friend’s mother’s pecan tree, nice budding out branches. The spotlights went off at 11 p.m. so we had cover of darkness. We climbed over the fence, managed to scale the petrified tree stump, and stuck bunches of budding branches into the crack so it looked like this million-year-old tree was about to just leaf right out.
Made the front page of the Sunday paper, picture only, above the fold (although, as I said, this was a town where basically nothing was happening or ever happened, once football season was over and the high school team had triumped its division).
That was not the last time this happened to that tree stump. It may not have even been the first time. And it probably didn’t fool anybody for more than 3 or 4 seconds. But it was fun.