I don’t know if this is true.
Four or five years ago, some kids from our rival school poured gasoline onto our football field in the shape of their school name (Redondo), then lit it so the word would be permanently etched into the grass. The problem is, they left out the “N.” Is our annual “Redondo Nerd Day” really a more politically correct version of “Redodo day”? Could be, but it’s a good story either way.
20-some years ago, when I was an undergraduate, I lived on-campus for one semester. My roomie was an annoying little git in more ways than I care to recount. Fortunately for me, he had his full name written in laundry marker on all his underwear. One Saturday night while he was out, I swiped a pair of his whitey-tighties. Then, early the next morning while everybody on the floor was still asleep, I went to the student lounge and mixed up the following concotion:
I then befouled his stolen underdrawers with the mixture and dropped them on the floor in one of the stalls in the communal bathroom. I also artfully besmirched the walls and commode seat with more of the mixture.
Then all that was left was to retire back to my bed and wait for the outraged screams to start…
Pikers. My dad and some of his accomplices, er, classmates, burned their school’s initials into the football field of their rival school, a couple of days before the ‘big game’.
Ironically, at the time of the incident I described in my previous post, one of my job duties was taking care of the fresh sod on that very same field to get it ready for the upcoming football season. Thirty years had erased all evidence of his shenanigans, naturally … but it was interesting to ponder. Or not, I dunno.
Wasn’t a joke that I did, but one that was done on me. I have a habit of scaring people whenever I get the chance. Jumping out, grabbing the leg and barking like a dog, hiding in cars, etc… Its to the point now where no one thinks its funny anymore, yet I still do it. We’ll one morning after a late night drinking party, my friends took my drivers liscence and pasted a picture of an erect penis over my face. Now, I get carded everytime for smokes. Everyone knows this. I’m 27, but I still look like I’m 15. I think i went 3 days before I noticed.
I’m surprised no one heard of this one. It’s a little nasty. It works best for someone who works or uses a desk.
Take a can of shaving cream and put it in the freezer. Once it is good and frozen snip away the canister from the frozen tube. Now, put the frozen tube in a desk drawer.
Once that sucker starts to dethaw it will expand like crazy. The best part? When they open the desk drawer it will continue to expand!
Make sure your victim has a sense of humour…
At least they would be in the right place!
My high school psych teacher told us a story of some kind of hazing thing he went through in college.
Apparently, they took him out to the country, put him in a wooden box with a lid, told him they were going to bury him, and then took the box off of the back of the truck and proceeded to shovel dirt on top of him.
The “funny” part is that they’d never put him in a hole, so they were just tossing dirt on top of the box and laughing as he thought they were actually burying him alive.
Another high school tale: Apparently, one of the cheerleaders did something to mortally offend one of the football players, so after a weekend of deer hunting, they took the insides from the deer and dumped them on her car.
I’m so happy sometimes that I was an unpopular kid. No one paid enough attention to me to want to do stuff like that.
Heard this one from my grandfather. He and his coworkers gave a large number of lottery tickets as a birthday present to a particularly unpleasant coworker. They chose the numbers on one of them to be the winning numbers of the previous lottery drawing. They then switched the newspaper on the desk with yesterday’s. After checking his numbers and seeing that he had won, he proceeded to announce his departure and tell off everyone in the office. He left in a blaze of faux glory. No one at the company ever heard from him again. I take my grandpa’s stories with a grain of salt, but this one’s too good not to tell, apocryphal or not.
I always like this one although it’s pretty harmless. My wife’s birthday a few years ago called for a family party and I was in charge of the cake. I went to the baker and on a whim I decided to have some fun. Instead of telling the baker to write “Happy Birthday Linda” I thought it would be funny to have it say “Happy Retirement Earl” with a on old coot in a wheelchair with no teeth. They did it up just fine. A few days went by and the party was in progress and I was told to pick up the cake. I did and brought it back. I set the box in front of my wife and let her do the honors. You should have seen the look of confusion on her face and we all asked “What’s wrong?” and she showed us the cacke. I acted totally innocent and confused about the mixup. They sent me in to call the baker…of course I didn’t but when I came out I said somehow the baker was confused about it too since there wasn’t an order for any “Earl”. The whole family was dazed by this turn of events. After about 20 minutes I fessed’ up and we all had a big laugh.
Another time happened when my wife and I were playing grab-ass years and years ago. We were chasing each other having fun when she ran into the bathroom and I pretended to hit my face. Of course she thought I was faking (I was) and she wouldn’t come out. In then meantime I kept hollering and it was becoming more and more serious and I just so happened to remember where I kept my fake blood from the previous halloween. I start whimpering while I began to saturate my nose with this fake blood and I start yelling that there is a lot of blood out here. Curiously she opens the door and FREAKS! She rushes to help me out and I’m covering my nose and half-laughing but it sounds like I’m whimpering. She rushes me to the bathroom and has me pinch my nose and look upward. As I pinch my nose, more and more blood is pouring out and I tell her that it’s broken and it really, really hurts. She’s very serious and trying to wipe up the blood with a rag and begins to tell me to get my things together for the hospital. That’s when I look her in the eye and say “Got you”. We laugh and laugh about that everytime one of the kids asks us about it.
Yuhp. I like to think of pranks as a tai kwan do exercise: lesson teachers. Only no kwan and no grasshoppah and lots more amusing. 
One of my old roommates (still a close friend) used to be a maniacal driver. I got nothin’ against makeup application in the car (it’s smart! timesaving!) but she was a make-up applier while also digging in the back seat for a piece of gum while changing her shoes while switching three lanes at high speeds while fumbling with her cell phone and lighting a smoke … she thought nothing of it.
So for Poisson d’Avril while she was off on a date (leaving late, driving fast) I set out on my mission.
I typed out a very official-looking/sounding letter, supposedly from a small town I knew she would be driving through in order to meet her date. Wish I could remember exactly what I wrote, it was awfully swell. This was 10+ years ago … the letter was supposedly a ‘postally-delivered ticket’ issued automatically by the new surveillance cameras the town had supposedly installed to catch and track drivers such as herself, and by using the new photoscope technology Officer Flossy had tracked my roommate’s personal info from her license plate number (all lies … LIES, I tell you).
‘We have film documentation of your very inattentive and dangerous driving technique which is shown to include eyeliner application, not using turn signals when appropriate, lipstick application, cellphone use, and frequently, NO eyes on the road anywhere. This letter is to let you know the charge for these extensive reckless driving offensive totals (itemized list) $521.43 and the town of xxx will expect to receive your payment within the next two weeks. Should you decide that you would like to treat this notification the same way you treat your driving, we will be glad to have you as a guest in our jailhouse to serve a sentence equalling the monetary charges assessed. If you have any questions, please feel free to contact Officer Flossy at xxx-xxxx.’
The telephone number I listed in the letter was the # to a local porn shop.
When my roommate came home and I handed her the envelope our postman had ‘delivered to me at the house with great urgency, insisting that I needed to really really make sure that she received it ASAP’, she had a flaming COW.
Such shrieking and carrying on has never been heard (nor the stifled gleeful giggles I was muffling). I knew just what buttons to push and boy howdy, did I hit em. I encouraged her to settle her shit down before she called ANYone (‘they’re the freakin’ police, do you think they’ll listen to you if you’re screeching at them?’), we discussed her driving (roomie: defensive–>angry–>accepting–>resolved to change); she finally felt prepared to deal with Officer Flossy in an attempt to have the citation dropped and hoping she could use her ‘wit’ and good looks to get her out of another fine mess, she dialed what she thought was the police station. Heh.
It was a very peaceful two days that she didn’t speak to me (after I confessed) and completely worth it. And she still does drive but not like she used to. You’re all quite welcome.
We were on break at work one day, and I showed a few of my co-workers how to send wallpapers, ringers, etc. to their phones. When you do this, your phone gives you this nice “THIS FILE IS NOT OFFICIAL AND MAY MELT YOUR PHONE” kinda message.
After I got home, I hunted down a copy of the picture from goatse.cx, scaled it down, and sent it to a co-worker’s phone.
He called in sick the next day.
Me and my other half used to work in a pharmacuetical warehouse. His supervisor couldn’t stand him at all. Anyway he worked in shipping. They had these huge boxes that would go on a pallet. They had a lid to which you would have to band strap the box to the pallet and up over the lid. Well wouldn’t you know my other half gets the bright idea to get in the box. The guys tighten down the box and supervisor comes over to inspect. To which he can’t find the packing slip on the outside of box. Thinking it may have been accidentally left in the box, supervisor who is already pissed off unbands the box and out pops me other half singing “Where Have All The Good Times Gone” by Van Halen. He nearly passed out. Scared the shit out of him. No wonder he was on supervisors bad side.
Kinda questionalbe, but funny none the less.
Where I work there are coffee addicts.
I replaced the coffee with decaf.
Waited a few months.
Allowed the decaf to run out and they got regular coffee.
Much fun was had with the buzzing bees.
This one was simple, but hilarious to watch. I was a high school senior, and as it was nearing graduation we had all sorts of rehearsals and assemblies to go to. On this day, all the seniors were sitting in the auditorium, spread around in our little groups, waiting to rehearse the awards assembly. Suddenly, a group of the snobby girls (we still called them “preppies” back then) started squealing and pointing at the ceiling. My friends and I looked up, and saw that there was a huge cockroach crawling up there, about twenty feet above their heads. I don’t know what came over me (I was a nice, shy person…back then ;)), but I reached into my purse, pulled out a penny, and threw it up in the air toward the girls. It landed right in the lap of the squealiest one. I still remember the screams and dancing.
It doesn’t really work very well. There’s less shaving cream in a can than you might think. http://www.cockeyed.com/pranks/frozen/frozen.html
Worst practical joke–
As a birthday gag, salesmen I used to work with nicked a roll of plastic palette wrap and styrofoam chips from the warehouse to prank a guy on his birthday. They filled the interior of his new Lexus up with chips, and then wrapped the entire car in plastic wrap.
His birthday was in July.
Did ya know that plastic wrap will bond with a car’s paint job under a hot sun, so that you can’t remove the wrap without pulling chunks of paint off?
Well, it does. :o
My quantum professor uses a pointer in class. This is not your ordinary pointer. Oh, no, this pointer is an orange hand on a stick. An orange hand, complete with wrinkles and fingernails, front view and rear view, pointing with its index finger. A once-amputated, now Scotch-taped, index finger.
Got a mental image yet?
Obviously, this hand is a bit used. My friend D is a great artist, and my friend J works in the professor’s office. D, ever so generous, traced him a new orange hand. D’s orange hand was indistinguishable from the original. Same colour, same wrinkles, same rip, same tape. Exactly identical, except for one small difference…
This hand is pointing with its middle finger.
Obviously, our little group knew all about this before class, and was ecstatic to see him bring out the pointer before starting. Since I’m so deaf, I don’t sit with everyone else. I sit right up front, so close I may as well be sitting on the chalk tray.
So class begins. And he points with it. And I almost die. I look to my left, and all my friends look like they’re about to pass out.
Class continues on. Professor employs the pointer to show us allowed electron transitions. He gets really into it, walks right in front of me, and puts the pointer right in front of my face. The pointer’s maybe 10 inches away. A larger-than-life, bright orange, laminated obscene gesture. I start cracking up. Desperate to regain composure, I look to my left again. They’re discreetly flipping me the bird.
I lose it and have to fake a coughing fit.
This was last Wednesday, by the way.
I had an ad from online pen pals somewhere on the 'net a couple of years ago, and some fella responds, I replied and for whatever reason something I said set him off and he replied with a torrent of abuse 
I was just going to ignore it and delete, but I thought "nah I’ll get the fecker for that … " I set up an email address for a fake TV production company (I forget what I called it but when you said it out loud it was a swear word - like Up Yours or something), and gave the producer and his assistant names like Richard Sole (R.Sole) and something else rude that I’ve forgotten, I then emailed the rude git and said the ad had been placed by the TV company and he’d been chosen to appear on the show, could he please ring XXX XXXX ASAP?
The number I gave him was for a pest control place in LA …
R. Sole got a highly irate email from said fella freaking out that the Production Co. didn’t exist
At SF Cons it is customary to have a “Badge Name”
I managed to get about 300 (out of 3000) people registered with the “badge name” that happened to be a friend of mine’s real name. He was at the convention. Many of the people he didn’t know.
We even hosted a programming event in his honor. Which was about two hundred people in a room - I believe it was one of the better attended events that year.