Here’s one a friend and I pulled way back in high school on another friend, but it was my idea. It was right after Christmas one year in the days way before the Internet, a much simpler and more innocent time, because you could simply phone in your classified ad to the newspaper and have them bill you for it after it had already run, and no telephone traces.
We (I, actually) phoned the Classified Ad Department of the local newspaper and placed the following ad in the name of a high-school friend: “Don’t throw your Christmas tree away. I’ll buy it!” And included his home phone and name. The lady taking the ad down asked me, “What on earth are you going to do with all those Christmas trees?” Whoa! I wasn’t prepared for that! Thinking fast, I said, “Uh, I’m going to resale them for firewood.” "Oooohhh, "she squealed, “I would’ve NEVER thought of something like that myself.” I said to run the ad for a week. By pure chance, we phoned it in on a Friday, so the first day it ran was Saturday; the newspaper offices were closed all weekend, so the ad ran all weekend until my friend’s family could tell them to stop running it on Monday. We called their house on Sunday pretending to be inquiring about the ad, and my friend’s mother told us no, it was all a big mistake. She also said they’d had close to 100 inquiries by then. Hehehe. Evil little brats we were.
On Monday in school, we waited to see what my friend had to say about it, but he never mentioned a word. Playing it cagey, waiting to see who would say something about it. So we never told him, and he never found out who was behind that.
The neighborhood moms at my high school used to prank each other, when their kids were in grade school: it started out with a flock of pink flamingos that made the rounds, but escalated from there. One mom sent her boys out late on Halloween to collect 100+ pumpkins to put on one person’s yard.
That same mom/family went to Israel that December, so all the remaining moms collected the leftover Xmas trees and decorations and coated her yard the week after Xmas. Planted all the trees upright, strung lights–it could have won an award. The victims pull in, bleary from an international flight to find the house a winter wonderland, and their little daughter, who was just barely reconcilled to the fact that she didn’t celebrate Xmas, squeals in delight “Look, mama, I was RIGHT! Santa Claus DOES come to our house!”
A friend of mine was going through a red neck divorce… Yep, he was about to lose his mobile home…
He called me up, and asked me to help him move his stuff out and if I had any Patchouli… I told him sure, but wondered why , as I knew he HATED the scent of it…
His ex wife was gone, while he cleared his belongings out of the trailer, and I proceeded to give him a hand tranfering his belongings to his pick up truck…
We had just put the last bit on, when he turns and asks “Did you bring the Patchouli?” "I handed him the vial, and he disappeared into the trailer one last time…
Turns out that he had emptied it into the furnace fresh air intake vent…
The only person who hated patchouli more than him was his ex wife…