Pranksta - 1 & 2

As much as I hate to admit it, I am like my father in a couple of ways. Probably more than a couple, BUT LET’S LEAVE THAT TO MY THERAPIST, SHALL WE?! My father, a.k.a. “Professor Pops,” is the Ace of Antics, the Sultan of ‘Splosions, and the Friar of Fire. So it should come as no surprise that I’ve taken a few pages from his syllabus when it comes to having fun.

I love pranks. They get me giddy, they do. To paint you a quick picture, think maniacal laughter, twiddling fingers, and a few seconds of panic when I wonder if the fart that slipped out during the height of the maniacal laughter gifted my shorts with something of substance.

Poop. I’m trying to say I poop myself when I’m prank plotting.

I’ve known Roommate since kindergarten, though I’ll never admit to hanging out with him back then, fucking loser. We’ve been through the highest of highs and the lowest of lows and I’m extremely grateful he’s my best friend. It’s also why he’s one of my favorite targets. Except, he does a piss poor job at acknowledging my shenanigans.

“Really,” he asks while I attempt to explain the genius of it. “You did that? Huh. Didn’t even notice.”

The prank was the most extravagant and intensive prank I have ever concocted. And he gives me a “Huh”? Fucker.

He was on the cusp of finishing his Masters in Oregon and whined to me of not having any new music. I had some, so I told him I’d send him a few CDs. The plotting began as soon as the words left my mouth. After getting Rocky Mountain High (which is just plain better and cheaper, by the way), I laughed maniacally, twiddled my fingers, changed my shorts, and began implementation. I would send him 4 discs, labeled 1, 2, 3, and 5, implying number 4 had gotten lost in the mail. I had hoped it would worry him, the strife drilling into his skull like maggots claiming a dead raccoon. (Whoa, that turned dark.) Discs 1, 3, and 5 would be new music mixed with some of our golden oldies: pop punk circa 2000.

Disc 2 was my masterpiece. I pulled songs from albums I would never listen to and changed the names of those songs, the artists, and even the albums. I pulled inspiration from my main brain and the bookshelf to my right. Disc 2 opened with a 46-second clip that was actually from a punk album, but I changed its name to a scene from the Godfather Part II; the trilogy had been a topic of a recent conversation. Here’s the complete list of fake songs, artists, and albums:

I’d like to point out a few that I’m particularly proud of – and let’s be honest, this entire blahg entry is me pointing out what I’m proud of, ‘cause I’m an attention slut, cuz! The Fist Pumps (14), Zesty Tones (11), The Shotty Apostles (13), Fetch the Letch (20), and The Wet Chords (12) are all quality band names. The In Patients (10) belt their hit “Right Yourself Off” on their debut album, “Visiting Time Is Over.” Of course it is. “King Leary” (5) was spawned the moment I looked at the Shakespeare collection to my right.

Three months later, much to my disappointment, I sit explaining my prank to Roommate because he hadn’t even given Disc 2 a glance or a listen. Bastard. OHHHHH, TOO BUSY WITH YOUR MASTERS PROGRAM TO HONOR A GREAT PRANK! BLAH! BLAH! BLAHG!

Bastard, right?

Thank you for your enthusiastic support of me in this matter. 

Prank 2 also involves CDs of the burned variety. Roommate went back to Minnesota for Christmas to celebrate with his family. I opted for a more stress-free holiday at home, and while at home, and while high (weird), it dawned on me. I drove him to the airport in his vehicle, right? Which just so happens to have a 6-disc CD changer, right? He had recently created a mix for his hour-long commute to and from work, RIGHT?! My plan was simple: create 6 new CDs with songs he hated.

But that wasn’t enough. As I giggled to the thought of him having to endure High School Musical, Backstreet Boys, and Korn, another thought bubble bubbled into m' brain: throw in a few songs he’ll actually enjoy, increasing the likelihood he’ll trudge through each terrible song of each disc looking for the keepers. 

To top it all off, I took the first two songs on his new mix and put that on the first CD, to lull him into a sense of security before pouncing with the prank. I title them all, “Haha! Fucker.” with subtitles like, "I Totally Fucking Got You" and "You Thought This Was Your CD, Didn't You? You Fucking Moron!" I swap all his CDs with the new ones, turn it to the first song of “his” mix, and crank the volume, because he knows I listen to my music loud and he'll think, "Oh, Brad just so happened to come across my new mix." All part of the sell. 

Yes, even children can look like tools.

 

“Funny guy.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Yeah, listened to those CDs you made. You’re a funny guy.”

I laugh. “Why, thank you!”

“You have a lot of shitty music.”

I laugh more, the volume and pitch increasing.

“The books on tape were pretty funny. I sat there for a while trying to figure out which book they were from.”

“Did you figure it out?”

“No.”

Win.