Hall Of Fame Practical Jokes
Something may happen to me. Before it does, I need to relay some information my nephews, nieces, and children can really use in their life.
I need to tell them my best practical jokes.
Some people are talented artists. Some can sing like the sirens. There are folks who are superb athletes. But me? I have the “gift” of pushing the envelope farther than others and getting away with it. If I had fail-proof financial wisdom I’d leave that for the young ones. I don’t, so I leave what I have.
The idea is three-fold: shock, hopefully in public, stopping just before real anger gets my face beaten. It’s a dirty job, but someone has to love doing it.
I come by this honestly - it’s inherited! When the ladies at the oil field camp returned from vacation to find the salt and sugar switched in their table dishes, they’d start yelling Granddaddy’s name. (This was an era where nobody locked their doors.) When Dad would come in from hunting, he’d say he “got one!” and we’d run out to his truck to look in the back finding the shirt or tool he’d found on the side of the road. I hope I’m living up to their expectations, examples, and rearing.
It started small. I hid alarm clocks under beds when I knew I’d be out of town with Dad so my older siblings would be blasted awake at night. I took yellow sticky notes by the dozen and wrote the name of a boy some girl had a crush on; then I hid them all over her room with a lead note telling her how many I’d hidden. But with age, I started getting more exorbitant. I’ll try to list my Hall of Fame starting with ones I consider good and ending with the ones I rate as fabulous. Several attempts didn’t turn out the way I envisioned, so they didn’t make this final cut. Some of these were group efforts and I hereby acknowledge all the help I received in making these happen – there’s no way I can name all the folks involved.
So nephews, nieces, and children, go forth and conquer where I have not yet had time to tread.
My Dying Dad
Parents are the easiest to trick, so this only makes the Hall of Fame due to whom my father was. He had pulled so many in his life that he saw through most attempts, but on this occasion – and it was my last time to get him before he passed away – I took him all the way under hook, line, and sinker.
Let me also stress that he needed getting for two reasons. One was revenge; the other was to cheer him up.
He passed on in the spring of ‘88, but the winter before saw him make one last trip to our old cabin on Lake Possum Kingdom. I don’t know how the pairing ended up this way, but my younger brother and I managed to get caught up in the All-Time Universal 42 Championship against the team of Mom and Dad. We were two confident roosters – after all, Dad had been one of our teachers and the list of others has names of world renown – but in all our little lives we had never beaten these two. They had their secret signals down pat and their Great Depression strategies were way over our heads. On this night, though, the planets lined up to watch and we were hot – I mean H-O-T hot! My brother and I could do no wrong. We were hitting each other with trumps we had never dreamed of and late into the night found ourselves tied up 6 games to 6 games.
Dad’s cycle of rheumatic fever, pneumonia, and accompanying complications left him exhausted most of the time and it was showing on his face when he called, “Last game.” Way on the wrong side of midnight, we faced off to have bragging rights forever with the losers knowing eternally they had been “whuuuuped.” Somebody got the first mark and then IT happened. Shuffle. Draw 7. First person said, “Three marks splash.” Mom raised it to four. One of us said, “Five!” But Dad, last bidder, raised it to six.
Did I mention this was for all the marbles? There was no going back. With no hesitation, he threw down a little blank and said, “Blanks are trumps.” Mathematically, my brother and I had this in the bag because we were holding half of the dominoes so one of us must have had the double blank, right?
No. Mom had what he needed just like she had all of their married life, and the rest of Dad’s hand was a lay-down. The man won the Ultimate Universal Championship without even having the high domino of his trump! I laid in bed and tossed and turned over an hour because I had gotten “whuuuuuped!” in such a manner. He definitely deserved some getting back…
And he was hurting this few months later when I came home from college. We could see it on his face; anyone could. He needed something to take his mind off of the pain. Interesting thing about rheumatic fever and how it destroys the heart from the inside out – one’s heart will still pump, but the tissues on the inside that push blood are destroyed so the blood is not moving. Blood carries oxygen, but the oxygen is not getting its ride so every cell in Dad’s body was literally suffocating at the same time. It was a terrible way to die, but that came later. On this day, I had to make something happen and I knew just how to do it.
Sitting at the family table eating Mom’s famous “leftover” soup, Dad was methodically cycling his spoon to his mouth with hardly even the energy to lift his eyes. I went for the jugular.
“Mom, Dad, I have to tell you something. I got into a bit of trouble today.”
We were never allowed to get into trouble. It just wasn’t an option. The spoon stopped moving.
“On the way home from class, I stopped at Wendy’s to get a Frosty with some friends. I told an Aggie joke, and everyone laughed really loud. I noticed a guy at the next table get up, and he came over to me. He said he was an Aggie and he really didn’t appreciate my joke; would I please mind waiting a few minutes until he left before I told anymore?
“I said, ‘Okay,’ but y’all, I just had to tell one more because I had these guys on the ropes! I kept my voice down and all, but it was an awesome joke and they laughed so hard one of them fell off of his chair. I guess the Aggie knew what I did because he got up and stormed out.”
Dad set the spoon down.
“We finished and walked outside. I said goodbye to the guys and walked around back where I had parked, but there was the Aggie standing by my car – and he had a razor in his hand…”
Dad lifted his eyes and I saw the concern.
“…but it was okay because he had no place to plug it in!” And the grin I’d been smothering leaped all over my face as I zinged the punch line home with a loud vocal effect.
Dad put his head down in his hands and shook it back and forth knowing he had raised a rascal.
Revenge…and cheer.
Auditing Taxes
One of my sisters had a boss she admired so much that she moved to another city just to work for her when the boss changed jobs. She really is a great lady all around, but my sister comes from the same gene pool I did so she also has some naughtiness to vent.
She called me April 1st and gave me the boss’s number. “Call her, pretend you’re from the IRS, give her this info to authenticate yourself, and string her along for about five minutes.”
Now this was awesome. Someone else had the idea, set it up, and just asked me to take the wheel!
I called. She fell. Being smart, she rallied and tried to figure out what was going on since it was April’s Fool Day, but I was ready. “Ma’am, realize that the IRS works on every business day and I assure you, there is nothing funny about what we do!”
At the time, caller ID did not exist. I finally let her know who I was, and she assured me she’d get me – and my sister! – back.
Wonderful.
The Indiana Wedding
It’s quite an honor to be a groomsman at a wedding. My philosophy is that only the preacher, bride, and groom need to be serious; the rest of the event is a social stage waiting for the action. I like to show up and provide it.
We were supposed to have black ties and cummerbunds to match our tuxes – at least that is what the bride wanted. We obeyed. Then we went a little farther. We also rented a bright red tie and cummerbund for the groom and bright purple for all of us groomsmen. The plan was to switch them – which we did – after the bride’s family had seen us before the wedding. We were redecorated when we came out of the side room to stand at the front.
What we had not told the groom was that we went a little farther still. We also rented Hawaiian ties and cummerbunds! Each of us was unique from the other, and I have to hand it to the rental place – they had really wild designs with eye-damaging bright colors! We switched these when the bride and groom walked on up the steps to stand closer to the preacher. The audience was loving it as we helped each other get all the collar buttons in place.
But what the others did not know is that I wanted to put a twist on the old standby of groomsmen losing the ring! I borrowed all the jewelry and watches I could find and pinned them to the inside of my tux jacket. When it was ring time, the first groomsmen did his part and “searched” his pockets as he turned to the next man in line. This continued, and I was at the end. I said loudly, “No – I don’t have it, but I may have something that will work!” I flashed open my jacket to display my wares as a street hustler will do letting the crowd see. Amidst the gasps and cackles, I unpinned the real ring and handed it up the line.
I do!
The Parody of North Carolina Seascapes
My brother-in-law is way up there on the scale of “Most Talented Individual That I Personally Know.” He writes his own music – both secular and spiritual – and is a phenomenal pianist (his website is on our LINKS page) who put himself through college playing and singing at a restaurant. He’s a fantastic cook, successful businessman in multiple fields, a superb preacher/songleader, and a regionally famous magician. This list goes on and on.
That kind of person just needs my special touch from time to time.
He orchestrated a deal to have his music in the background of an associate’s video production of beautiful North Carolina coastal scenery. As with all his other projects, it was a great success.
My cousin, however, realized an opportunity was approaching with an upcoming birthday so she called me. “Gilbert, do you still have your video camera?” That’s a great way to start a conversation! Her idea was brilliant. I was to take my camera to our lake cabin and film exact opposites of “beautiful North Carolina coastal scenery!” We called our parody “Texas Lake Scrapes” or some such and the photography included the inside of the outhouse, a half-sunken boat with peeling paint, Dr Pepper cans floating in the slime, and 25 more minutes of junk piles, wasp nests, dead fish on the shore, and wonderfully miscellaneous items. I edited his music onto the same video, and then something happened that took it from “brilliant” to “fantastic.” When he came to Texas for his birthday, Jay brought Ms. Beulah.
Ms. Beulah is not your average dame. Dignified, classic, senior citizen, role model for thousands, full of proper etiquette, and former college professor, this lady was a prize for my family to meet; we still stay in contact with her and had the Texas Legislature send her an official plaque making her an Honorary Citizen of the Great State Of Texas. She sat on the couch and watched Jay open his presents with neither of them knowing what was coming. Oh yes – she had seen Jay’s video! After the regular ceremonial rituals, I asked for everyone’s attention and said I had a “special” birthday gift for Jay.
I cranked up the VCR and Jay heard those familiar sounds of his first song. His face lit up – but then switched to bewilderment. Why would Gilbert be playing his video about North Carolina? Then the screen showed my rickety version of the title with trash in the background, and the light bulb turned on over his head. He burst out laughing – then stopped cold and turned to see Ms. Beulah! What was she thinking of this? Then the outhouse came on and Jay could take it no more. He was caught between dignified Ms. Beulah and the reality of being nailed. He exploded with laughter and (I have this on another video to verify!) fell off the couch laughing so hard he lost his breath and had to leave the room.
I love technology.
Attack Of The Invisible Killer Bees
The next three Hall Of Famers all happened at our family’s cabin on Lake Possum Kingdom. That area was where Dad was born and raised, and he took us there more than half of the weekends of every year. It’s an awesome place, but kids will be kids – and cousins will really be something…
In the dark of night, we were on the roof because a battle of water balloon war was in full rage between groups of cousins. Please don’t tell Kenny this story – he has been living a delusion for years now.
We spotted Kenny from our lofty perch as he was cruising over to his other grandparents’ cabin. He was the youngest and was always fishing so he had no idea of the ambush surrounding him. Loaded with lots of balloons, it was the perfect opportunity to hit him with a full-scale “welcome to the world of the big boys!” attack.
Just when he got to the edge of the outdoor bulb light and was stepping into the darkness, we launched. Sometimes, good jokes need a bit of luck to become classic and Luck Was A Lady that night! It could not have worked better if we had planned it. One balloon hit the ground by his feet and scattered gravel – noise below. One simultaneously hit a bush by his hips and water sprayed over all the leaves – noise at his midsection. At the same time a third experienced structural failure directly over his head and showered water drops all over his tank top exposed skin – noise by his ears and things he couldn’t see pelting his skin!
He was scientific proof that light travels faster than sound. We heard his “YEEE-OOWWWW!” but we never saw him because he took off at Warp Factor Five. We learned later from Aunt Patsy that he thought he was being attacked by a swarm of wasps.
Exhilarating.
Up A Creek Without A – Breath Mint?
If you can pull off two great jokes on the same day, you’re really cookin’ with high heat. On the same night we welcomed Kenny to adulthood, we made Veale Creek history.
Water balloons are to a male what a mouse is to a fed housecat. There’s really no reason to play with them, but the urge is uncontrollable.
I don’t know why girls hung around with my cousin Bill. He talks about guns and trucks all the time, but that didn’t stop a boatload from coming down to visit his grandparents with him. One such girl was Rebecca, and she was at the cabin about the time Bill had found the “batboat,” a vintage watercraft with high dorsal fins forged right out of the 1950s – but this was the 1980s! Bill in this craft was the ultimate definition of “redneck” long before Jeff Foxworthy made it a national phenomenon.
It is romantic to go on a boat ride under the stars. It is unwise to try to be romantic when cousins are watching while holding water balloons.
We were on the roof when they motored off so we knew which creek they’d taken. Then came the mad dash to fill several more balloons, recruit more cousins, haul the ammo down to another little boat, and start up the same creek. It was my privilege to drive. In fact, I may put this feat on my tombstone. Navigating by starlight, we putt-putted up to a safe distance and then went into stealth mode. We shut off the engine and started using the oars. Submarines rigged for silent running would have been proud of us as we peeked around corners, figured out their location (the “batboat” was solid white so even with starlight it was not hard to see!), parked our craft, got out with the water balloons, and moved into attack position.
My family gets the giggles at the worst possible times, and this was one of them. I don’t know if I was even old enough to know boys and girls like to kiss, but somehow it hadn’t entered my mind what Rebecca and Bill might be doing. Crouching there behind the Johnson grass in my flip-flops holding water balloon bombs being eaten by mosquitoes with some of my favorite people in the world filled my heart with uncontrollable glee – uncontrollable to the point that when I figured out I was hearing lips smacking I felt the laughter start swelling in my throat! I knew there would be no holding it back. Ever the fast thinker (ha ha), I quickly let out an Indian yell to cover the laugh and screamed with delight as I went “bombs free!” and let fly. We were throwing from point-blank range; they had been so distracted with each other they never would have heard a moose attacking. Several of our balloons ran true to the targets.
As best we could with no light, we ran back to our boat and cruised back to the dock where we were waiting with fishing poles as though nothing had happened when the two puppy lovers arrived. Rebecca stormed past us and stomped all the way to the cabin. After she was out of sight, Bill rolled in laughter with us.
Anger, but my face was not beaten.
The Midnight Happening at Veale Creek Cemetery
Having the right person in the group can be the determining factor in the success or failure of a great joke. We had Debbie. Her list of “accomplishments” is long and famous. One of her best is how she got too excited and yelled at the good guy in a live play, “Don’t go in there!” right before he opened the door where the villain waited. (Luckily, the actor was able to turn to Debbie and yell back to her, “It’s alright – I know how it ends!”) Debbie really gets carried away, and that’s a superb quality to look for in a target. She’s also a lifelong family friend, and that’s important when it comes to the part about my face not getting beaten.
The cemetery at Veale Creek sits among thick cedar trees amidst small hills around Possum Kingdom Lake. When the sun goes down, it defines darkness. Dad had just built a new outhouse for the cemetery workdays and we had moved it into place just before we took a group of kids to our lake cabin for the weekend. Debbie came. I don’t know who had the idea originally, but I got to carry the flashlight.
The plan was simple. A group of us piled into my brother’s pickup with cushions and blankets for a ride under the stars that warm summer night. While we were thus distracting Debbie, three of the guys got in Granddad’s boat and went up Veale Creek to the cemetery to hide.
When we drove up to the cemetery gate, I announced that I had a flashlight and I wanted to show everyone what Dad had built. There was hesitation. It was, after all, a cemetery – quite dark, in the middle of nowhere, and full of the dead. The issue was settled when my brother killed the engine and I got out; everyone followed.
We opened the squeaky gate and the adrenaline started pumping. I took advantage of this to start flapping my lips with every made-up story I could invent as we walked through here pointing out tombstone architecture and there pointing out interesting dates and family connections of the deceased.
The outhouse, of course, was on the far side of the acreage.
We got within flashlight range of the structure, and that was my cue. I started discussing the tools we had used and other issues while keeping the light on the outhouse as one of the guys hidden behind it opened the door with a string! I yelled and “dropped” the flashlight. Oh my...
Debbie hyperventilated and dropped to the ground.
Priceless.
Forever Plaid
One of my crowning achievements came when I not only shocked in public, but I surprised a girl who was thinking I was about to embarrass my wife!
My family has a fond affection for the play Forever Plaid. We love to sing, Mom and Dad loved Perry Como, all of us wore plaid as hand-me-downs when plaid was decades out of style, and we adore unique story lines. When the play came to our city, I got a group to go. I had already seen it multiple times in a bigger venue so I knew the storyline and what they would do in the surprise audience-participation scene.
One of the couples in this date was Keith and Kim. Kim is a hilarious mix of talent and laughter. Her eyes sparkle. She has an embarrassingly loud unique laugh we hear often because she is so friendly, outgoing, and funny. She has a voice which could have been opera, a tough confidence from her days as a military policeman, and a stage presence that’s rock-solid. But that didn’t prepare her for me!
Fortunately, God gave me one other talent. I am loud. Some people can run faster than others, some think more accurately than others in math, and some of us are just born to be portable P. A. systems. (I’m in good company. At a high school pep rally, one of my brothers won the spirit stick. The stick is usually given to an entire class!) When I had seen the play before, they had always picked a sucker from the audience near the stage that they could see. We were sitting at tables way in the back so it would take some doing to get their attention, but I have what it takes in that area.
They came to the spot in the play where they needed an audience participant. When they shaded their eyes from the spotlights to look at the spectators for their scapegoat, I stood and bellowed, “She’s up here, guys! Way up here in the back!”
As I was waving and yelling, I saw hesitation on the lead actor’s face. This was not what they had planned! But I have to hand it to him – he took the ball and ran with it. Realizing I wasn’t going to sit down, he grabbed a stage prop and ran up the aisle to our table.
My wife was sitting with me, and in the name of self-preservation I had told her my plan. She smiled to play along as I told the actor in a voice loud enough for the theatre to hear, “I want to introduce you to…” and I turned to point at my wife – only my arm didn’t stop at my wife! I kept turning until I was pointing two tables over to “…KIM!” and I ran over to her, grabbed her arm, and pulled her out of her chair.
Kim is a talker as I am, and I’d never seen her at a loss for words. This night, however, her jaw dropped better than any cartoon and the look of disbelief mixed with shock on her face made my heart giddy with pure joy! The actor was smooth as he took her hand in his and immediately walked her toward the stage. He had seen her face as well, knew it was a wonderful theatre moment, and capitalized on it.
She recovered quickly, hammed it up once it was inevitable, and even played a rocking harmony line on the piano with the actors during “Chopsticks.” But she and her husband have never gone to another play with my wife and me. Hmmm…
Encore.
Tony Roma’s Ribs
Part of world class practical jokes involves being able to shock people who think they know you, and this is why this joke is currently at the top of the list. It involves great imagination because one has to think way out of the box to create a scenario the “knowledgeable” person would never imagine.
For me, Big Rob was the ultimate challenge. He and I went to church together for years, played sports, and even worked two summers together on the same Coke truck. He definitely knew me.
Big Rob wore all of his emotions on his face for the world to see. He was married, I was not, and he was forever dogging me about my lack of girlfriends if I was unattached or playing the field if I had even a female pen pal. He needed to be taught a lesson, and a road trip to downtown Dallas provided just what I needed.
If you ever have doubts about sending your kids to summer camp, let me offer this advice: send them, because they may meet someone who can help them like I did. Here’s how it worked.
A group of us decided to hit the road to downtown Dallas for Tony Roma’s ribs. It was an awesome group and the trip was hilarious to plan much less actually go on – and it included Big Rob.
At summer camp, I had met more girls than I knew existed in the entire state. I managed to beg a few addresses and wrote a few for years. Two of these wonderful ladies pulled this off for me, and I’ll forever be in their debt. These two lived not far from downtown Dallas…
I called them and laid out the plan telling them up front that if they were not comfortable with it, I would understand and it would not affect our friendship. When they heard it, they both said “Yes!” (Hence my plea to let your kid go to summer camp!) I told them the restaurant we’d be at and the clothes I’d be wearing since it would be crowded, and they adjusted their schedules accordingly.
On this Hall of Fame night, our big group made it to Dallas and had our appetizers. I made it a point to be sitting by Big Rob. These two girls, dressed to kill looking so fine and playing along, walked over to our table. Loud enough for Big Rob to hear, one of them put her hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eye, and said, “Hi! We noticed you didn’t have any girls sitting with you and we think you’re cute. May we join you?”
I definitely said, “Yes!”
The place was packed, but the shocked silence of Big Rob penetrated the entire space! The dogger was totally off of his rocker that girls would actually come find me! (To his credit, he was right – that never happened in real life. But I digress…)
We made small talk for a few minutes before I became concerned about Big Rob’s health. He was turning red and absolutely dying that one of his favorite targets was attracting attention from the fairer sex in a public setting right in front of the group! I let the group know what was going on before the paramedics had to come revive Big Rob, and yes – I paid for the ladies’ meals!
Classic.
Ones Done To Me
I would be amiss if I did not include a section of practical jokes played upon myself. If you dish it out, you have to be able to take it!
Long before I met my wife, I had on a bedroom wall a couple of photos of girls I knew from camp and school – some pen pals, some I barely knew, some I wanted to know better. The story got to our preacher about this “wall of women” and he devised this scheme.
He conducted gospel meetings like many preachers. One spring when he had a couple of out-of-state meetings lined up, he bought some cards that “strongly suggested” a girl likes a guy. I don’t remember how many, but one had a basket on the cover filled with wheat products; the inside had a reference to “liking my buns.” Another had a girl in a pair of cut-off jeans standing in front of an American flag; the inside said she was looking for a man that was “loyal” and I was probably the one. He got a couple of girls who knew me to write little lines on the inside saying vague things like, “I hope someday I can get the courage to tell you how I feel about you, but for now I’ll just send this card.” Then, he took the cards to these distant meetings and dropped them in the post office there.
That spring drove me bananas as I received cards with postmarks from cities I’d never even visited full of girls’ handwriting I couldn’t recognize telling me I was something else!
Wild.
My marriage to my wife was the ultimate payback. Many, many people owe me for stunts I’ve pulled at their special occasion, and of course I had the social obligation to invite them to mine.
I didn’t know what all would happen, but I had the pretense to tell my wife if I ended up missing don’t panic – the guys would bring me back in time to pay for the hotel room.
Being held down after the rehearsal dinner and having an embarrassing symbol spray painted on my rear was no big deal. Having a hundred people pop Dr Pepper cans on cue when the preacher said the “Amen!” to his prayer after our vows was really a cute payback of a tradition I had started many years before. But what my family cooked up for delivery of my wife’s wedding ring got us on “America’s Funniest Home Videos!”
I am a Batman fanatic. It goes back to my childhood when Chris lived next door and had comic books. As I read his collection, I realized Batman was the only one that was real. Kryptonite and flying was so fake, but if a guy really wanted to be a black belt in every kind of fighting in the world and if he was really rich enough to buy all those gadgets and cars then Batman could really exist! Thus, I have never been without my Batman key chain.
A nephew originated this plan. Almost 10 years old at the time, he told his parents about it, and they made it happen. I’m so proud of him…
The preacher asked me for the ring. I turned to the best man who searched his pockets and shrugged. He turned to the next groomsmen and here we went all the way to the end of the row, each searching pockets and looking up with mouths agape. After the last one came up empty-pocketed, he yelled loudly enough for all to hear, “Holy jewelry heist, Best Man! This looks like a job for Batman! Hit it!” and all the groomsmen started singing the old Batman theme: Nah-nah nah-nah nah-nah nah-nah BATMAN!” Then they turned to look back up the same aisle my beautiful bride had walked, but this time there was not a fine figure in white.
My nephew, dressed head to toe in a black Batman costume, came running among 300+ people holding the wedding ring in his crime-fighting hand! Giving it to the best man, he grinned at his dad in the line and made his way to his seat on the front row by his mom. Two different video cameras caught it, and he’s been on the AFV reruns ever since.
Ka-Pow! They got me good.
My next two big ones
I won’t give all the details, of course, because a reader might be the person I target next. I will give two hints, though. One involves the restroom at Mom’s house. The second involves replacing the bride or groom at a wedding.
I need to tell them my best practical jokes.
Some people are talented artists. Some can sing like the sirens. There are folks who are superb athletes. But me? I have the “gift” of pushing the envelope farther than others and getting away with it. If I had fail-proof financial wisdom I’d leave that for the young ones. I don’t, so I leave what I have.
The idea is three-fold: shock, hopefully in public, stopping just before real anger gets my face beaten. It’s a dirty job, but someone has to love doing it.
I come by this honestly - it’s inherited! When the ladies at the oil field camp returned from vacation to find the salt and sugar switched in their table dishes, they’d start yelling Granddaddy’s name. (This was an era where nobody locked their doors.) When Dad would come in from hunting, he’d say he “got one!” and we’d run out to his truck to look in the back finding the shirt or tool he’d found on the side of the road. I hope I’m living up to their expectations, examples, and rearing.
It started small. I hid alarm clocks under beds when I knew I’d be out of town with Dad so my older siblings would be blasted awake at night. I took yellow sticky notes by the dozen and wrote the name of a boy some girl had a crush on; then I hid them all over her room with a lead note telling her how many I’d hidden. But with age, I started getting more exorbitant. I’ll try to list my Hall of Fame starting with ones I consider good and ending with the ones I rate as fabulous. Several attempts didn’t turn out the way I envisioned, so they didn’t make this final cut. Some of these were group efforts and I hereby acknowledge all the help I received in making these happen – there’s no way I can name all the folks involved.
So nephews, nieces, and children, go forth and conquer where I have not yet had time to tread.
My Dying Dad
Parents are the easiest to trick, so this only makes the Hall of Fame due to whom my father was. He had pulled so many in his life that he saw through most attempts, but on this occasion – and it was my last time to get him before he passed away – I took him all the way under hook, line, and sinker.
Let me also stress that he needed getting for two reasons. One was revenge; the other was to cheer him up.
He passed on in the spring of ‘88, but the winter before saw him make one last trip to our old cabin on Lake Possum Kingdom. I don’t know how the pairing ended up this way, but my younger brother and I managed to get caught up in the All-Time Universal 42 Championship against the team of Mom and Dad. We were two confident roosters – after all, Dad had been one of our teachers and the list of others has names of world renown – but in all our little lives we had never beaten these two. They had their secret signals down pat and their Great Depression strategies were way over our heads. On this night, though, the planets lined up to watch and we were hot – I mean H-O-T hot! My brother and I could do no wrong. We were hitting each other with trumps we had never dreamed of and late into the night found ourselves tied up 6 games to 6 games.
Dad’s cycle of rheumatic fever, pneumonia, and accompanying complications left him exhausted most of the time and it was showing on his face when he called, “Last game.” Way on the wrong side of midnight, we faced off to have bragging rights forever with the losers knowing eternally they had been “whuuuuped.” Somebody got the first mark and then IT happened. Shuffle. Draw 7. First person said, “Three marks splash.” Mom raised it to four. One of us said, “Five!” But Dad, last bidder, raised it to six.
Did I mention this was for all the marbles? There was no going back. With no hesitation, he threw down a little blank and said, “Blanks are trumps.” Mathematically, my brother and I had this in the bag because we were holding half of the dominoes so one of us must have had the double blank, right?
No. Mom had what he needed just like she had all of their married life, and the rest of Dad’s hand was a lay-down. The man won the Ultimate Universal Championship without even having the high domino of his trump! I laid in bed and tossed and turned over an hour because I had gotten “whuuuuuped!” in such a manner. He definitely deserved some getting back…
And he was hurting this few months later when I came home from college. We could see it on his face; anyone could. He needed something to take his mind off of the pain. Interesting thing about rheumatic fever and how it destroys the heart from the inside out – one’s heart will still pump, but the tissues on the inside that push blood are destroyed so the blood is not moving. Blood carries oxygen, but the oxygen is not getting its ride so every cell in Dad’s body was literally suffocating at the same time. It was a terrible way to die, but that came later. On this day, I had to make something happen and I knew just how to do it.
Sitting at the family table eating Mom’s famous “leftover” soup, Dad was methodically cycling his spoon to his mouth with hardly even the energy to lift his eyes. I went for the jugular.
“Mom, Dad, I have to tell you something. I got into a bit of trouble today.”
We were never allowed to get into trouble. It just wasn’t an option. The spoon stopped moving.
“On the way home from class, I stopped at Wendy’s to get a Frosty with some friends. I told an Aggie joke, and everyone laughed really loud. I noticed a guy at the next table get up, and he came over to me. He said he was an Aggie and he really didn’t appreciate my joke; would I please mind waiting a few minutes until he left before I told anymore?
“I said, ‘Okay,’ but y’all, I just had to tell one more because I had these guys on the ropes! I kept my voice down and all, but it was an awesome joke and they laughed so hard one of them fell off of his chair. I guess the Aggie knew what I did because he got up and stormed out.”
Dad set the spoon down.
“We finished and walked outside. I said goodbye to the guys and walked around back where I had parked, but there was the Aggie standing by my car – and he had a razor in his hand…”
Dad lifted his eyes and I saw the concern.
“…but it was okay because he had no place to plug it in!” And the grin I’d been smothering leaped all over my face as I zinged the punch line home with a loud vocal effect.
Dad put his head down in his hands and shook it back and forth knowing he had raised a rascal.
Revenge…and cheer.
Auditing Taxes
One of my sisters had a boss she admired so much that she moved to another city just to work for her when the boss changed jobs. She really is a great lady all around, but my sister comes from the same gene pool I did so she also has some naughtiness to vent.
She called me April 1st and gave me the boss’s number. “Call her, pretend you’re from the IRS, give her this info to authenticate yourself, and string her along for about five minutes.”
Now this was awesome. Someone else had the idea, set it up, and just asked me to take the wheel!
I called. She fell. Being smart, she rallied and tried to figure out what was going on since it was April’s Fool Day, but I was ready. “Ma’am, realize that the IRS works on every business day and I assure you, there is nothing funny about what we do!”
At the time, caller ID did not exist. I finally let her know who I was, and she assured me she’d get me – and my sister! – back.
Wonderful.
The Indiana Wedding
It’s quite an honor to be a groomsman at a wedding. My philosophy is that only the preacher, bride, and groom need to be serious; the rest of the event is a social stage waiting for the action. I like to show up and provide it.
We were supposed to have black ties and cummerbunds to match our tuxes – at least that is what the bride wanted. We obeyed. Then we went a little farther. We also rented a bright red tie and cummerbund for the groom and bright purple for all of us groomsmen. The plan was to switch them – which we did – after the bride’s family had seen us before the wedding. We were redecorated when we came out of the side room to stand at the front.
What we had not told the groom was that we went a little farther still. We also rented Hawaiian ties and cummerbunds! Each of us was unique from the other, and I have to hand it to the rental place – they had really wild designs with eye-damaging bright colors! We switched these when the bride and groom walked on up the steps to stand closer to the preacher. The audience was loving it as we helped each other get all the collar buttons in place.
But what the others did not know is that I wanted to put a twist on the old standby of groomsmen losing the ring! I borrowed all the jewelry and watches I could find and pinned them to the inside of my tux jacket. When it was ring time, the first groomsmen did his part and “searched” his pockets as he turned to the next man in line. This continued, and I was at the end. I said loudly, “No – I don’t have it, but I may have something that will work!” I flashed open my jacket to display my wares as a street hustler will do letting the crowd see. Amidst the gasps and cackles, I unpinned the real ring and handed it up the line.
I do!
The Parody of North Carolina Seascapes
My brother-in-law is way up there on the scale of “Most Talented Individual That I Personally Know.” He writes his own music – both secular and spiritual – and is a phenomenal pianist (his website is on our LINKS page) who put himself through college playing and singing at a restaurant. He’s a fantastic cook, successful businessman in multiple fields, a superb preacher/songleader, and a regionally famous magician. This list goes on and on.
That kind of person just needs my special touch from time to time.
He orchestrated a deal to have his music in the background of an associate’s video production of beautiful North Carolina coastal scenery. As with all his other projects, it was a great success.
My cousin, however, realized an opportunity was approaching with an upcoming birthday so she called me. “Gilbert, do you still have your video camera?” That’s a great way to start a conversation! Her idea was brilliant. I was to take my camera to our lake cabin and film exact opposites of “beautiful North Carolina coastal scenery!” We called our parody “Texas Lake Scrapes” or some such and the photography included the inside of the outhouse, a half-sunken boat with peeling paint, Dr Pepper cans floating in the slime, and 25 more minutes of junk piles, wasp nests, dead fish on the shore, and wonderfully miscellaneous items. I edited his music onto the same video, and then something happened that took it from “brilliant” to “fantastic.” When he came to Texas for his birthday, Jay brought Ms. Beulah.
Ms. Beulah is not your average dame. Dignified, classic, senior citizen, role model for thousands, full of proper etiquette, and former college professor, this lady was a prize for my family to meet; we still stay in contact with her and had the Texas Legislature send her an official plaque making her an Honorary Citizen of the Great State Of Texas. She sat on the couch and watched Jay open his presents with neither of them knowing what was coming. Oh yes – she had seen Jay’s video! After the regular ceremonial rituals, I asked for everyone’s attention and said I had a “special” birthday gift for Jay.
I cranked up the VCR and Jay heard those familiar sounds of his first song. His face lit up – but then switched to bewilderment. Why would Gilbert be playing his video about North Carolina? Then the screen showed my rickety version of the title with trash in the background, and the light bulb turned on over his head. He burst out laughing – then stopped cold and turned to see Ms. Beulah! What was she thinking of this? Then the outhouse came on and Jay could take it no more. He was caught between dignified Ms. Beulah and the reality of being nailed. He exploded with laughter and (I have this on another video to verify!) fell off the couch laughing so hard he lost his breath and had to leave the room.
I love technology.
Attack Of The Invisible Killer Bees
The next three Hall Of Famers all happened at our family’s cabin on Lake Possum Kingdom. That area was where Dad was born and raised, and he took us there more than half of the weekends of every year. It’s an awesome place, but kids will be kids – and cousins will really be something…
In the dark of night, we were on the roof because a battle of water balloon war was in full rage between groups of cousins. Please don’t tell Kenny this story – he has been living a delusion for years now.
We spotted Kenny from our lofty perch as he was cruising over to his other grandparents’ cabin. He was the youngest and was always fishing so he had no idea of the ambush surrounding him. Loaded with lots of balloons, it was the perfect opportunity to hit him with a full-scale “welcome to the world of the big boys!” attack.
Just when he got to the edge of the outdoor bulb light and was stepping into the darkness, we launched. Sometimes, good jokes need a bit of luck to become classic and Luck Was A Lady that night! It could not have worked better if we had planned it. One balloon hit the ground by his feet and scattered gravel – noise below. One simultaneously hit a bush by his hips and water sprayed over all the leaves – noise at his midsection. At the same time a third experienced structural failure directly over his head and showered water drops all over his tank top exposed skin – noise by his ears and things he couldn’t see pelting his skin!
He was scientific proof that light travels faster than sound. We heard his “YEEE-OOWWWW!” but we never saw him because he took off at Warp Factor Five. We learned later from Aunt Patsy that he thought he was being attacked by a swarm of wasps.
Exhilarating.
Up A Creek Without A – Breath Mint?
If you can pull off two great jokes on the same day, you’re really cookin’ with high heat. On the same night we welcomed Kenny to adulthood, we made Veale Creek history.
Water balloons are to a male what a mouse is to a fed housecat. There’s really no reason to play with them, but the urge is uncontrollable.
I don’t know why girls hung around with my cousin Bill. He talks about guns and trucks all the time, but that didn’t stop a boatload from coming down to visit his grandparents with him. One such girl was Rebecca, and she was at the cabin about the time Bill had found the “batboat,” a vintage watercraft with high dorsal fins forged right out of the 1950s – but this was the 1980s! Bill in this craft was the ultimate definition of “redneck” long before Jeff Foxworthy made it a national phenomenon.
It is romantic to go on a boat ride under the stars. It is unwise to try to be romantic when cousins are watching while holding water balloons.
We were on the roof when they motored off so we knew which creek they’d taken. Then came the mad dash to fill several more balloons, recruit more cousins, haul the ammo down to another little boat, and start up the same creek. It was my privilege to drive. In fact, I may put this feat on my tombstone. Navigating by starlight, we putt-putted up to a safe distance and then went into stealth mode. We shut off the engine and started using the oars. Submarines rigged for silent running would have been proud of us as we peeked around corners, figured out their location (the “batboat” was solid white so even with starlight it was not hard to see!), parked our craft, got out with the water balloons, and moved into attack position.
My family gets the giggles at the worst possible times, and this was one of them. I don’t know if I was even old enough to know boys and girls like to kiss, but somehow it hadn’t entered my mind what Rebecca and Bill might be doing. Crouching there behind the Johnson grass in my flip-flops holding water balloon bombs being eaten by mosquitoes with some of my favorite people in the world filled my heart with uncontrollable glee – uncontrollable to the point that when I figured out I was hearing lips smacking I felt the laughter start swelling in my throat! I knew there would be no holding it back. Ever the fast thinker (ha ha), I quickly let out an Indian yell to cover the laugh and screamed with delight as I went “bombs free!” and let fly. We were throwing from point-blank range; they had been so distracted with each other they never would have heard a moose attacking. Several of our balloons ran true to the targets.
As best we could with no light, we ran back to our boat and cruised back to the dock where we were waiting with fishing poles as though nothing had happened when the two puppy lovers arrived. Rebecca stormed past us and stomped all the way to the cabin. After she was out of sight, Bill rolled in laughter with us.
Anger, but my face was not beaten.
The Midnight Happening at Veale Creek Cemetery
Having the right person in the group can be the determining factor in the success or failure of a great joke. We had Debbie. Her list of “accomplishments” is long and famous. One of her best is how she got too excited and yelled at the good guy in a live play, “Don’t go in there!” right before he opened the door where the villain waited. (Luckily, the actor was able to turn to Debbie and yell back to her, “It’s alright – I know how it ends!”) Debbie really gets carried away, and that’s a superb quality to look for in a target. She’s also a lifelong family friend, and that’s important when it comes to the part about my face not getting beaten.
The cemetery at Veale Creek sits among thick cedar trees amidst small hills around Possum Kingdom Lake. When the sun goes down, it defines darkness. Dad had just built a new outhouse for the cemetery workdays and we had moved it into place just before we took a group of kids to our lake cabin for the weekend. Debbie came. I don’t know who had the idea originally, but I got to carry the flashlight.
The plan was simple. A group of us piled into my brother’s pickup with cushions and blankets for a ride under the stars that warm summer night. While we were thus distracting Debbie, three of the guys got in Granddad’s boat and went up Veale Creek to the cemetery to hide.
When we drove up to the cemetery gate, I announced that I had a flashlight and I wanted to show everyone what Dad had built. There was hesitation. It was, after all, a cemetery – quite dark, in the middle of nowhere, and full of the dead. The issue was settled when my brother killed the engine and I got out; everyone followed.
We opened the squeaky gate and the adrenaline started pumping. I took advantage of this to start flapping my lips with every made-up story I could invent as we walked through here pointing out tombstone architecture and there pointing out interesting dates and family connections of the deceased.
The outhouse, of course, was on the far side of the acreage.
We got within flashlight range of the structure, and that was my cue. I started discussing the tools we had used and other issues while keeping the light on the outhouse as one of the guys hidden behind it opened the door with a string! I yelled and “dropped” the flashlight. Oh my...
Debbie hyperventilated and dropped to the ground.
Priceless.
Forever Plaid
One of my crowning achievements came when I not only shocked in public, but I surprised a girl who was thinking I was about to embarrass my wife!
My family has a fond affection for the play Forever Plaid. We love to sing, Mom and Dad loved Perry Como, all of us wore plaid as hand-me-downs when plaid was decades out of style, and we adore unique story lines. When the play came to our city, I got a group to go. I had already seen it multiple times in a bigger venue so I knew the storyline and what they would do in the surprise audience-participation scene.
One of the couples in this date was Keith and Kim. Kim is a hilarious mix of talent and laughter. Her eyes sparkle. She has an embarrassingly loud unique laugh we hear often because she is so friendly, outgoing, and funny. She has a voice which could have been opera, a tough confidence from her days as a military policeman, and a stage presence that’s rock-solid. But that didn’t prepare her for me!
Fortunately, God gave me one other talent. I am loud. Some people can run faster than others, some think more accurately than others in math, and some of us are just born to be portable P. A. systems. (I’m in good company. At a high school pep rally, one of my brothers won the spirit stick. The stick is usually given to an entire class!) When I had seen the play before, they had always picked a sucker from the audience near the stage that they could see. We were sitting at tables way in the back so it would take some doing to get their attention, but I have what it takes in that area.
They came to the spot in the play where they needed an audience participant. When they shaded their eyes from the spotlights to look at the spectators for their scapegoat, I stood and bellowed, “She’s up here, guys! Way up here in the back!”
As I was waving and yelling, I saw hesitation on the lead actor’s face. This was not what they had planned! But I have to hand it to him – he took the ball and ran with it. Realizing I wasn’t going to sit down, he grabbed a stage prop and ran up the aisle to our table.
My wife was sitting with me, and in the name of self-preservation I had told her my plan. She smiled to play along as I told the actor in a voice loud enough for the theatre to hear, “I want to introduce you to…” and I turned to point at my wife – only my arm didn’t stop at my wife! I kept turning until I was pointing two tables over to “…KIM!” and I ran over to her, grabbed her arm, and pulled her out of her chair.
Kim is a talker as I am, and I’d never seen her at a loss for words. This night, however, her jaw dropped better than any cartoon and the look of disbelief mixed with shock on her face made my heart giddy with pure joy! The actor was smooth as he took her hand in his and immediately walked her toward the stage. He had seen her face as well, knew it was a wonderful theatre moment, and capitalized on it.
She recovered quickly, hammed it up once it was inevitable, and even played a rocking harmony line on the piano with the actors during “Chopsticks.” But she and her husband have never gone to another play with my wife and me. Hmmm…
Encore.
Tony Roma’s Ribs
Part of world class practical jokes involves being able to shock people who think they know you, and this is why this joke is currently at the top of the list. It involves great imagination because one has to think way out of the box to create a scenario the “knowledgeable” person would never imagine.
For me, Big Rob was the ultimate challenge. He and I went to church together for years, played sports, and even worked two summers together on the same Coke truck. He definitely knew me.
Big Rob wore all of his emotions on his face for the world to see. He was married, I was not, and he was forever dogging me about my lack of girlfriends if I was unattached or playing the field if I had even a female pen pal. He needed to be taught a lesson, and a road trip to downtown Dallas provided just what I needed.
If you ever have doubts about sending your kids to summer camp, let me offer this advice: send them, because they may meet someone who can help them like I did. Here’s how it worked.
A group of us decided to hit the road to downtown Dallas for Tony Roma’s ribs. It was an awesome group and the trip was hilarious to plan much less actually go on – and it included Big Rob.
At summer camp, I had met more girls than I knew existed in the entire state. I managed to beg a few addresses and wrote a few for years. Two of these wonderful ladies pulled this off for me, and I’ll forever be in their debt. These two lived not far from downtown Dallas…
I called them and laid out the plan telling them up front that if they were not comfortable with it, I would understand and it would not affect our friendship. When they heard it, they both said “Yes!” (Hence my plea to let your kid go to summer camp!) I told them the restaurant we’d be at and the clothes I’d be wearing since it would be crowded, and they adjusted their schedules accordingly.
On this Hall of Fame night, our big group made it to Dallas and had our appetizers. I made it a point to be sitting by Big Rob. These two girls, dressed to kill looking so fine and playing along, walked over to our table. Loud enough for Big Rob to hear, one of them put her hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eye, and said, “Hi! We noticed you didn’t have any girls sitting with you and we think you’re cute. May we join you?”
I definitely said, “Yes!”
The place was packed, but the shocked silence of Big Rob penetrated the entire space! The dogger was totally off of his rocker that girls would actually come find me! (To his credit, he was right – that never happened in real life. But I digress…)
We made small talk for a few minutes before I became concerned about Big Rob’s health. He was turning red and absolutely dying that one of his favorite targets was attracting attention from the fairer sex in a public setting right in front of the group! I let the group know what was going on before the paramedics had to come revive Big Rob, and yes – I paid for the ladies’ meals!
Classic.
Ones Done To Me
I would be amiss if I did not include a section of practical jokes played upon myself. If you dish it out, you have to be able to take it!
Long before I met my wife, I had on a bedroom wall a couple of photos of girls I knew from camp and school – some pen pals, some I barely knew, some I wanted to know better. The story got to our preacher about this “wall of women” and he devised this scheme.
He conducted gospel meetings like many preachers. One spring when he had a couple of out-of-state meetings lined up, he bought some cards that “strongly suggested” a girl likes a guy. I don’t remember how many, but one had a basket on the cover filled with wheat products; the inside had a reference to “liking my buns.” Another had a girl in a pair of cut-off jeans standing in front of an American flag; the inside said she was looking for a man that was “loyal” and I was probably the one. He got a couple of girls who knew me to write little lines on the inside saying vague things like, “I hope someday I can get the courage to tell you how I feel about you, but for now I’ll just send this card.” Then, he took the cards to these distant meetings and dropped them in the post office there.
That spring drove me bananas as I received cards with postmarks from cities I’d never even visited full of girls’ handwriting I couldn’t recognize telling me I was something else!
Wild.
My marriage to my wife was the ultimate payback. Many, many people owe me for stunts I’ve pulled at their special occasion, and of course I had the social obligation to invite them to mine.
I didn’t know what all would happen, but I had the pretense to tell my wife if I ended up missing don’t panic – the guys would bring me back in time to pay for the hotel room.
Being held down after the rehearsal dinner and having an embarrassing symbol spray painted on my rear was no big deal. Having a hundred people pop Dr Pepper cans on cue when the preacher said the “Amen!” to his prayer after our vows was really a cute payback of a tradition I had started many years before. But what my family cooked up for delivery of my wife’s wedding ring got us on “America’s Funniest Home Videos!”
I am a Batman fanatic. It goes back to my childhood when Chris lived next door and had comic books. As I read his collection, I realized Batman was the only one that was real. Kryptonite and flying was so fake, but if a guy really wanted to be a black belt in every kind of fighting in the world and if he was really rich enough to buy all those gadgets and cars then Batman could really exist! Thus, I have never been without my Batman key chain.
A nephew originated this plan. Almost 10 years old at the time, he told his parents about it, and they made it happen. I’m so proud of him…
The preacher asked me for the ring. I turned to the best man who searched his pockets and shrugged. He turned to the next groomsmen and here we went all the way to the end of the row, each searching pockets and looking up with mouths agape. After the last one came up empty-pocketed, he yelled loudly enough for all to hear, “Holy jewelry heist, Best Man! This looks like a job for Batman! Hit it!” and all the groomsmen started singing the old Batman theme: Nah-nah nah-nah nah-nah nah-nah BATMAN!” Then they turned to look back up the same aisle my beautiful bride had walked, but this time there was not a fine figure in white.
My nephew, dressed head to toe in a black Batman costume, came running among 300+ people holding the wedding ring in his crime-fighting hand! Giving it to the best man, he grinned at his dad in the line and made his way to his seat on the front row by his mom. Two different video cameras caught it, and he’s been on the AFV reruns ever since.
Ka-Pow! They got me good.
My next two big ones
I won’t give all the details, of course, because a reader might be the person I target next. I will give two hints, though. One involves the restroom at Mom’s house. The second involves replacing the bride or groom at a wedding.