April Fools' Day was established by the Christian church in an effort to mock the predominantly pagan peasantry who continued to celebrate the New Year according to old calendars around the beginning of Spring instead of by the brand new Christian calendar. This is also why Easter uses pagan fertility symbols of rabbits and eggs at this time of year. Christians coopted the fun stuff and made you call everything by their names so they could bring you into the fold all sly like.
Christians were assholes.
Anyway I don't usually do anything for April Fools.
I'm pretty sure that's a lie, but honestly if I ever attempt anything it's usually not that epic. Frankly, I was pretty well sated all through college just by the newspaper's Fun Page shenanigans each year. Especially since I was the one meticulously running and planning everything those last two years.
Plus I guess all those times I helped torment the still wriggling sushi out of Evan helped. I'm not sure I ever admitted to covering his whole desk, everything on it, and everything (including his open-but-full bottle of booze)
in it in aluminum foil. One roll goes a long way.
Sure, I cleaned it all off, but I then molded it into an accurately sculpted life-size bust of his head.
Of course that's just because he pissed me off. That head guarded the Ball Pit (also my doing) until it mysteriously disappeared.
I'm pretty sure the last legitimate prank I had came to me in a dream. That happened again more recently with a chocolate dessert recipe, but I'll tell you the first story because it comes out sounding a lot less gay.
My sophomore year of high school we would frequently meet before classes in a specific hallway where our lockers were.
Though, again, this was a lie. Half of us had lockers there. A few more of us just appropriated lockers not in use because it was more convenient.
Anyway we'd all meet there and wake up each day, which was an unfortunate routine as one day I found myself dreaming that exact routine. I awoke when I noticed three inconsistencies with reality. One: one of the classrooms across from us was big and brightly lit; in truth, this room was a special education classroom converted from an old, tiled men's room. (Possibly the worst P.R. move ever.) Second: I started making out with one of our female associates before classes, something that was not likely to happen both due to who
she was and also the idea that I would have been making out with anyone in high school. Lastly, and I wish I could say it was this point that alerted me to my dream state and not the oddity of actual romance in my life, there was a lobster trundling into said bath-classroom.
I had mentioned this to my friends, who all thought it was a bit weird, but everyone forgot shortly. This was around the first week in March.
It occurred to me a few weeks later to be awesome.
On April 1, I got up early and took a special trip down to the grocery store's fish department.
The actual prank went horribly. My friend Jay saw me stuffing something into his locker, and simply began muttering, "No. No. No…," as he approached the thing. He opened the door and his face shifted as he left rationality behind for emergency response mode.
Clearly the decision was for me to move the live, squirming lobster one locker right into Dean's possession.
That also failed. Dean had to be led into opening his locker. Apparently he was cool with not being prepared for any of his classes that day.
As we argued now over what to do with a live lobster I giggled, though the decision was taken from us. Mrs. Carerra, the Spanish teacher arrived and scolded Dean and Jay for bringing a living creature onto school grounds.
I laughed harder.
She threatened them with detention for their crime, but settled on merely confiscating Mr. Snips. (Mr. Lawrence Snips.)
The actual hilarious part to this came much later. Lobster-in-the-locker isn't a masterpiece on it's own. As soon as we left the hallway I had to go to study hall, wardened over by Señora Carerra. As I walked in the door beaming she stopped me to ask why Dean and Jay brought a lobster to school. I happily told her I had done it. I was not going to share this credit.
Sra. Carerra was aghast. I was the only person in class not borderline retarded. How could I have done such a thing?
Well I asked her what would happen to the lobster, hoping I could perhaps bring it home for my crustacean-devouring mother. She simply said it was already thrown out, which I thought a bit callous to do to a perfectly boilable lobster.
It was only a few hours later at lunch when everything finally came together. Standing behind two other students in line I overheard them discussing the dearth of worthy pranks that year. "Somebody put a lobster in another kid's locker," one suggested.
"A
lobster? Like a
live lobster?" replied the other.
"Yeah, man. A live lobster."
"Awesome," he said with a shrug.
That was fucking worth it right there. It was simple, forewarned, indefensible and virulently discussable.
Plus, it didn't hurt Mrs. Carerra was seen that day smuggling a lobster bag into the teacher's lounge refrigerator.
Bitch ate my lobster.
Awesome.
I just saw one of those half-commercials that get played in the five seconds of dead air between one nation-wide commercial and a short local one. This one was for, I'm pretty sure, "BestDegree21.com," a proprietor of online college degree-like things.
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