As much as I facetiously abuse and lament the stupidity of my friends (I need new ones, any takers?), it turns out that they are actually brilliant people. My sophomore year was the year of the Great Prank War, a conflict which I instigated, but never expected to reach the levels that it did.
Warning: this is a long story, and requires an ample setup.
It all started when we found an innocent freshman’s locker ajar. Being sadistic little jerks, we decided to relocate the contents of the locker in order to teach her a lesson. We left a snarky note at the old location berating her for leaving the locker open and suggesting she grow up learn how to use a combination lock. We then locked up the contents a few doors down and to the right. It was in her best interests. What if someone more malicious than us had stolen her things?
Despite our warning, the idiot kept leaving her locker open. We went through the same note and relocation process so many times that we eventually learned her name (Jeanine) and what she looked like (average).
Some months later, I decided to play a prank on my friend Anne. Anne was very involved in our locker-stalking of Jeanine. I left a badly written note in Anne’s locker claiming that I was a friend of Jeanine’s and I knew that Anne was leaving notes and confetti in my locker. I wanted her to stop, or else I would “put a fucking bomb” in Anne’s. Anne, predictably, along with the rest of my friends, freaked out.
After letting them panic for an appropriate amount of time (“but it’s someone else leaving notes in his locker! I have nothing to do with it!”), I confessed to having left the note. Anne was predictably angry. The prank war had begun.
The brilliance of her response was the disguise. Less than a week later, she took my backpack and sent me on a scavenger hunt around the school. When I returned, I found it exactly where I had left it.
Little did I know that this prank-that-wasn’t-really-a-prank was meant to lull me into complacency. Months later, the Prank War would rise from the depths of our memory and turn me into a terrified, groveling victim.
The notes were short and sweet. I found them in my locker. I was initially skeptical. It was obviously some sort of joke my friends were playing on me. But what gave me doubts was the fact that they weren’t over the top about it. The notes said things like “you’re really pretty. Date me?” and “I saw you outside the math building this morning.” I told Anne that hers was a terribly inspired prank. She said she had nothing to do with it, and I assumed she was lying.
Then another friend, completely unconnected to the Great Prank War, said she had seen a kid dawdling by my locker. He had a blue sweatshirt. I assumed she was in on it.
But then came the clincher. As I walked to my locker between first and second periods, I saw a hooded figure standing by my locker. It was a blue sweatshirt. I was too far away to see his face when he glanced my way. He turned and walked the other direction. I followed him, but lost him in a crowd. I was some mixture of flattered and terrified. I hastily explained the situation over lunch, apologizing to Anne for accusing her. I was understandably scared of my stalker. I told her how creeped out I was. I poured out my heart.
And she told me she got a friend that I didn’t know to wear a sweatshirt and stand by my locker. I have never forgiven her.
But last week, I convinced her that lasers make your fingernails grow faster.
This prompt was blog-lifted from the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt. Check it out. There’s others on the site.
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