Prank Partners are Important

As I’ve previously admitted, I’m in fatherhood strictly for the pranks.  I mean, the love and adoration and passing on the family name is all well and good, but nothing really compares to the look of utter shock on a child’s face when they find out that they’ve been served.

But you know what takes a good prank to the level of great prank?  It’s your prank partner.  Oh, sure, a solo prank can be good, but a multi-person prank can be the stuff of legend.

I once tried to pull a prank in Belgium with a co-worker who was unfamiliar with the stuff of pranks.  The whole setup was that I printed off a fake letter from his car company that showed a torched car, and she wrote up a whole thing in French about how there was a fire and his car would be in for repair longer than foreseen (he had it in the shop for a couple of days).  Then I addressed it and put it in his letter box.

Of course, about ten seconds later she’s in his office.  “Did you see the letter?” she asks.  “Did you read it?  Wasn’t it funny?”

Um, doofus?  It’s not a good prank if you go and ruin it before he sees it.

So today, on the way over to pick up the girl, William and I worked out a great prank to use on Victoria.  She’d spent two hours in the goofiest gymnastics final ever, and by the time we got to her she was hungry and cranky and absolutely ready to go.

“So,” she says.  “What’s for sups?”

“William and I thought it would be nice to stop by a restaurant that just opened in town.  You know how your mom is – she never wants to try new things.  One of the owners’ kids goes to school with William.”

“Oh, boy!” she says.  “What’s it called?”

“It’s called Escar-to-Go,” I said.  “It’s a takeout French restaurant that serves only escargot-themed dishes, like curly fried snails.”

“Gross!” she says.  “That’s disgusting.  I do not eat snails, ever!  I hate them!”

“Come on!” William says.  “Jhanre says that the cooking is awesome.  And he’s a great guy, and a good friend!”

“I don’t care!” she says.  “I don’t care about him, or his parents, or their stupid restaurant.  I will not eat snails!”

“Oh, come on,” I said.  “Don’t be a close-minded barbarian.  Try something new!”

“You are forgetting that I have had snails!” she’s starting to yell now as we drive down the road.  “I ate them once and they are disgusting!”

“But they don’t taste like snails!” William says.  “I want to support my friend!”

“Yeah, they make a snail-patty sandwich that’s a fusion of American and French cuisine, called the Escarburger.  I hear it’s their specialty.”

“Gross!”

“Jhanre gave me some,” William said.  “It was delicious.”

“Come on, a snail patty under a sheet of goat cheese served on delicious snail bread?   Yum!”

“Talk to the hand!”  She sticks her hands up in our faces.  “I will not eat there!  You can’t make me!”

“But Jhanre-“

“I don’t care about your stupid friend and his stupid parents and their-“

“HE IS NOT STUPID!  Don’t you talk that way about my friend!”

“You’ll eat it if I say you’ll eat it,” I said.

“If you make me eat it I’ll go up and make myself vomit before my shower,” she said.  “I swear I will!  I don’t care if it is the start of bulimia, I’m not eating snails and you can’t make me!”

At this point, I couldn’t help it and I started laughing. 

William, though, wasn’t done.  “You never want to support my friends!  We’re always doing things for your stupid friends and you won’t do this one little thing for me without being all teenager and making it a big drama.”

“I HATE SNAILS!”

“Jhanre is my only friend!  The only one!  He might be there!  I might get to see him!  But do you care?  Noooo!  You just want to be difficult!”

I was starting to worry about William. Did he really feel this way?

“I DON’T LIKE SNAILS!”

“WHY DO YOU HATE MY FRIENDS?”

We nearly died, I was laughing so hard as we drove down the interstate.  Finally, I had to call a halt to it, mostly because I was now worried that William was having a psychotic episode, perhaps post-concussionitis or something.

“Victoria, I’m going to start calling you Sharpie.”

“Why?”

“Because you are an easy mark!”

She looked at me, death rays shooting out of her eyes, nostrils flared, glowering at me angrily as she ground her teeth.

“There is no Escar-to-Go, is there?”

“Do you really think that there’s a drive-through escargot restaurant in our town?  Really?”

“Uh, now that I think about it-“

“There’s no Jhanre, either,” William said.  “And I had to make that up in, like, two seconds.”

She fumed for a long moment.  “I hate you two,” she said.  “Why would you even do that?”

“Because pranks are our way of saying that we love you,” I said.

“Yeah,” William said.  “We love you, sister.”

“I guess that’s sweet,” she said totally unconvinced.  “What are we going to have for dinner?”

“Frozen slug,” William said.

Suddenly, she went off again.  “SLUG!  THAT’S WORSE THAN SNAIL!  STOP THE CAR RIGHT NOW BEFORE I…”  Her head spun around, exorcist-like, for like ten seconds.  “You’re just pulling my leg again, aren’t you?”

“Oh, totally,” I said.

“Good,” she said.

“They’re thawed.” William said.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!”

That’s why you have to pick the right prank partner.