.... where family is the source of humor!

Practical Jokes by Carol Wells

For some people the teen years mark a period where they can pull practical jokes. Some more notable or original than others - but what can be more notable than being credited with a practical joke you did not do?

My father, back in his youth, used to go with his friends to tip over outhouses as a practical joke of sorts. My Dad was born in the part of the 1920's in a rural southern Indiana town so that may help explain why someone in their teen years might find outhouse tipping a funny ha-ha thing to do for fun.

They went out one evening to tip over outhouses but, for whatever reason, the group decided tipping over these buildings was 'small fare' and instead dismantled a tractor then, under the cloak of darkness, reassembled the vehicle. Why? I guess the logical answer is, "So they could say they did," as the young men reassembled the tractor on top of the farmer's barn.

Must have been quite a sight when the farmer saw his tractor sitting there, in all its John Deere glory, perched on the barn's roof. My father never said what happened to the tractor after that evening. For all I know, there may be a barn in Southern Indiana with an old - albeit, by now, rusting - tractor on top silently proclaiming to passer-bys, "Carol's Dad and his friends did this to me!"

Practical jokes within our family were not limited to my father's past. My brother, in a roundabout way, helped to leave quite a legacy with a couple of high school teachers that he and I eventually shared.

For example, one year my brother's government class decided to use click-top pens on test days. With a simplistic code of 1 click for A, 2 for B, and so on this trick worked for a couple of tests. Then, one day, the teacher apparently caught on as he collected the click top pens and handed out traditional stick pens with a stern warning that any tapping would result in the class taking the back-up essay test. A rather tame stunt but seven years later, when I had the same government teacher, he shared about my brother's class stunt with the warning for us to not consider repeating the idea.

Most notable, though, would be my brother's junior year when he volunteered to be part of the prom committee. Before the 1980's the high school held the Junior-Senior Prom in the gymnasium with junior class, under the guidance of the art teacher, selected the theme and did the decorating. One evening my brother had to go to the local hardware store for tape and staples. A couple of his friends tagged along - one of them a sophomore, so not involved with the prom whatsoever outside of socializing.

My brother did not know, until after they arrived back to school, that the sophomore bought a smoke bomb to slip into the art teacher's car engine as a practical joke. That evening, when the art teacher called it a night, most of the students found a reason to dawdle outside. When the teacher started up her car, nothing happened.

"A dud," the lingering students muttered disappointedly. Unfortunately, they jumped to this assumption much too soon.

When the art teacher was on a country road halfway between her home and the school the smoke bomb decided to finally "do its thing." With smoke billowing from under the hood of her car, she naturally panicked and when the fire department informed her it was not a fire but a smoke bomb - well, this news did not result in her sharing a laugh over a practical joke.

She quickly learned that a sophomore had been involved, along with one of her prized art students, to rig up the smoke bomb. However - she also uncovered that my brother had driven the sophomore to the store where he purchased the smoke bomb. In the end, the art teacher deemed my brother responsible for the whole event happening.

My brother told my parents what happened. My father was unable to keep a straight face when my brother shared about the smoke bomb going off much later than people thought it would. "Quit laughing, Bob," my mother chastised him, "How on earth can you find this funny?" My mother did not find more humor in the situation when the art teacher threatened to have the prom cancelled

After a couple days passed by, my parents went to the high school and demanded to talk to the art teacher. With the art teacher laying full blame at my brother's doorstep and hopeful prom queen contestants feeling it was their perceived duty to come by our home to guilt trip my parents - they had enough; the prom went on as planned and my brother remained in school. I can only imagine the delight the art teacher felt when seeing my last name on her class roster a few years later.

Humorous Book Recommendations:             [ view all ]
No Shoes, No Shirt ... No Problem!
[Jeff Foxworthy; 239 pages]
Although the language is slightly colorful Jeff shares not only his humor but also glimpses into his life - his parents divorce, practical jokes he and his brother pulled, and more. I found this book on a discount shelf . . . and my husband thought I was silly buying it. Poor guy, later found himself eating those words as he kept having to pause to catch his breath from laughing so hard.

I can appreciate the humour of questionable pieces of memorabilia from Saint Oscar the Sinner being offered to a credulous public at absurd prices, and be proud of my ancestor's ability to take his revenge a century later.
-- Merlin Holland, in The Daily Telegraph (Feb 23, 1998) on his grandfather Oscar Wilde's items being sold for large sums at auction

Humor Is Relative thanks Cay Dickson, from the Houston Chronicle, for the compliment!

I don't know why I did it, I don't know why I enjoyed it, and I don't know why I'll do it again.
-- Bart Simpson from The Simpsons

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