Wednesday, April 4, 2012

All in good fun

They put a purple teddy bear on the front of my motorcycle.
Its hard to be a bad ass with a plushy riding bitch. Given the seating placement, in retrospect, I was the one riding bitch to a plushy.
That makes it so much worse.
The bear was there for at least a week. I really wanted to write "the bear was there, but I did not care" but after the last emotional blog my man-card is on suspension until my next fist fight.
It was mean of them. I thought. The way they laughed and chortled at me.
I plotted and schemed. Failure. I hate practical jokes.
I failed at my first attempt at an April fools joke. Made my little brother puke masticated cheerios all over everyone at breakfast. Switching the sugar with the salt, not wise.
The beating (flyswatter) that I got and the very stern lecture cured me of practical humor at others expense for a while.
Until I was 17. Then I wore a scary werewolf mask and jumped on my little (younger, physically he is bigger than I) brother growling and screaming.
He was briefly startled, however, he overcame his momentary alarm fast enough to punch me in the face.
Retrospect, again, I should never have thought that a werewolf would even phase my little brother. This is the kid that later in life was attacked by a bear and retained presence of mind enough to shoot it.
With a bow and arrow.
He broke my mask and bloodied my lip.
I deserved it.
So I plotted my revenge for the plushy. It took me a long time.

But then, I hung a purple tinky winky plushy from one guys bike and put a cute little rainbow magnet on the other guys ride

So they drained my gas tank.
Then they booby trapped my desk.
Followed by a series of phone calls and pages.
Moving on from there to Stapling my pants to my leg, gluing my tires to the ground, drilling holes in the bottom of all of my water bottles and feeding me shrimp disguised in chili.
They were so damn good at it.
The doctored picture of me as Hitler, posted everywhere, was my favorite.
My wee little mind was aching.
Two things happened.
A friend found a license plate cover that said "I LOVE BOYS" and I found a peel and stick permanent strawberry shortcake patch.
Then it was all down to timing.
Franz had a perfectly restored Buick GS X, it was going to be in its first show. The night before the show I snuck into his garage and put it on his back plate. I love boys prominently displayed on a muscle car, headed to a redneck heaven the next day.
I was laughing so hard I didn't sleep.
It took him 3/4 of the day to figure out why all the guys were slipping him phone numbers. Took him the rest of the day to cut the stripped bolts (oops) off and remove the vanity plate.
He got calls for two months from lonely guys.
John was much more aware.
I waited almost two months for him to drop his guard. When he did, angels sang. Then they choked from laughing.
He was walking in from outside, taking off his helmet. I nonchalantly slapped him (manfully!) on the back to say hey.
Planting a 4inch by 6inch strawberry shortcake permanent patch, sticky side down, on to the back right shoulder of his motorcycle jacket.

3 weeks.
He wore it for three weeks before an ex-girlfriend at a bar answered his question of  "why cant I get a date? Its like I am invisible to Women" as only a women could have answered "Baby, if you want to play for that team again you cant go out wearing the other teams uniform"
Revenge was sweet.
berry sweet.