I was a prankster growing up. Spencer Gifts when they initially opened specialized in prank toys and gifts. I loved Spencer Gifts for this very reason and gladly handed them my hard-earned paper route money in exchange for gag props which I used for entertainment purposes on a regular basis.
What do lockers, school or otherwise, have in common with doors of any variety (be they – screen, front, rear, cabinet, closet, bedroom, bathroom, garage, car, glove-compartment, Ad Infinitum)? Actually, gates work well, also. The one quality these opening and closing contrivances all share is that they all work well in tandem with pull string fireworks or pull string bombs depending on how many pull string fireworks were/are used in constructing a booby-trap. I’ve made and planted hundreds of pull string explosives in different places for different reasons while “growing up.” And, of course, I did all my practicing at home, first. My family eventually satiated on shock surprises.
I used to put exploding loads in people’s cigarettes, dad always loved that one. And when my friends came over for lunch or supper, I would often corrupt mom into feeding them a rubber hot-dog, or possibly a rubber hamburger, and for breakfast either a rubber egg or a rubber pancake.
I owned (still do actually) a glass with a well-concealed hole in the middle of an ornamental floral arrangement carved into the glass on three sides toward the top, such that when someone drinks from the glass, it leaks, ever so slightly. What typically happened was a ‘subject’ initially would act like nothing happened when they first took a drink and liquid trickled down the side of the glass, assuming they just missed their mouth or something. They would then try to downplay the whole thing. This gag usually involved my entire family. Mom, dad, sis, and I were all in it together. Our job was not to laugh while watching the event unfold in our peripheral vision.
The second time our unsuspecting guest would drink from the glass, predictably, it would leak again but this time the guest would apologize for spilling his drink. But after their second encounter with the leaky glass, most guests still did not explore the glass for defects; they still assumed they were somehow to blame for the leakage. Usually, by try number three, the person, on my version of candid camera, would examine the glass and finally discover its flaw.
The list of childhood pranks I played on my friends and family growing up did not end there. When I left home at the tender age of 18 to make my mark on the world, I took my ornery streak with me. Truth be told, it has never waned.
Kids
Kids keep us young. When the twins were 4 and Brian 6, the boys all ended up with me initially when their mom and I divorced. This meant I was outnumbered 3 to 1. It also meant that I needed every tool in my tool kit to keep (they might as well be triplet’s given their proximity in age and size) the three amigos in check. One of the tactics I employed to level the playing field was to convince them I had superpowers, powers which they could not match.
One day while driving to church I told Ben to watch his thoughts. He was sitting in the back seat, and I could see him looking at me through the rear-view mirror. Ben responded, “what did you say, dad?” I said, “be careful what you’re thinking because whenever I concentrate, I can read your mind.”
Ben challenged my assertion. He said, “no, you can’t.” I replied, “yes I can, and I’ll prove it!” Keep in mind that I always had a backup plan as a way to explain failure if it occurred but, in this case, everything went according to design. I told Ben to think of a number between 1 and 10 and I would then tell him which number he had in mind.
My kids, like most kids, tght bigger was always. With this in mind, I guessed Ben would not pick a small number. I assumed it would be greater than five, for example. I also assumed he would not pick an outer-limit number like ten. I further believed he would not pick the number 5 because it was conspicuously in the middle of the pack.
With the above in mind, in my final analysis of things, I believed Ben’s number was either a 6, 7, 8, or 9. I went with 8. The night before, the kids and I all played crazy 8’s and I reasoned that this number might still be lodged in his sub-consciousness, somehow. Anyway, I went with it. I looked at Ben directly into his eyes (once again through the rearview mirror) and said without the slightest level of equivocation in my voice, “you are thinking about the number 8.” OMG, you should have seen the look on his face. His look said it all and for a moment he was completely speechless. He was 7 at the time.
After regaining his composure, he announced to his brothers, quite emphatically actually, “dad got it right! I was thinking about the number 8.” Eric, Ben’s twin, immediately piped in with, “what number am I thinking about, dad?” And then within seconds, Ben wanted me to do it again. Brian, on the other hand, had yet to say anything. He just kept looking at me. He was in the front seat.
After a brief period of time listening to the twins ask me over and over again to repeat my super-power demonstration, I shut it down with, “once was good enough.” I then cautioned them all once again to watch their thoughts because I could at will dial into what they were thinking anytime I wanted. Brian finally broke his silence by announcing to the group that perhaps I just got lucky when I guessed the right number, implying I did not have any super-powers. But power perceived is power conceived so I said, “are you sure you want to test me on this?” Brian was 9 at the time. He said, “yes, I want to test you on this. I’m thinking of a number between 1 and 100, what is it?”
I was still planning a response in my head to Brian’s request as we pulled into the church’s parking lot. The boys immediately saw many of their friends walking into church. As soon as I parked the car, they all got out and Ben immediately ran to his friends to brag about his dad’s mind-reading capabilities.
On the way home from church, Brian once again challenged me to tell him what number he was thinking of between 1 and 100. I told him his request was too simple and to pick something more challenging. I even offered a suggestion. “What would you say if I told you I can blow stuff up with my mind?” He said without hesitation, “no, you can’t.” I said, “the time is not right but someday very soon, I’ll show you what I mean. But until then, I reminded them all to mind their p’s and q’s.”
Fast Forward a Few Weeks
I learned growing up that if I ran the wick of a firecracker through a lit cigarette, the burning cigarette would provide the bomb maker with a three-minute fuse (approximately) before igniting. I was a smoker at the time, so I lit a cigarette and ran a firecracker fuse through the cig at its base next to the filter. I planted my time-bomb in the flower bed that surrounded my back patio deck. I then waited for the cigarette to burn down to where I had about one minute left before it exploded. I then rounded up the boys for a family meeting.
Two sliding doors in the family room opened to the rear patio and the flower bed in question could be viewed from the family room couch where I had the boys assembled for a family meeting. I was aware of how much time I had but I would still need some luck to pull the stunt off. As the boys were sitting there looking at me, I said, “ok, so here’s the deal, one of you guys drove the go-kart yesterday without permission. I know it happened but I’m not sure which one of you is guilty so now is your time to come clean.” No one said a thing – this was typical. They never confessed to any wrongdoings.
I was down to about 30 seconds before the blast, I guessed, so I started talking fast. I told you, boys, a few weeks ago that I can blow stuff up with my mind, but you didn’t believe me so let me give you a demonstration. I bowed my head after I told them of my plans to blow up a flower, acting like I was in deep concentration. Within a few seconds, after I lowered my head, the firecracker exploded throwing dirt in the air along with an uprooted daffodil.
The boys stared at me in astonishment and disbelief. Brian even stated, “that was amazing dad, how did you do that?” “Thought control”, I told him. Within seconds, Eric confessed to driving the go-kart around the neighborhood the day before, after which I concluded the meeting by telling them to constantly beware of my superpowers. There are literally hundreds of stories similar to this one and the boys and I, to this day, still kid around about the tricks I played on them when they were little. Ben and Brian, both told me recently that if they ever end up having kids, they will do the same stuff to their kids that I did to them. High praise I’d say, and I’ll take it.
