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Pranks

Get this. I once walked up behind someone and, you are never going to believe this, shouted BOO really loud.

It was damn funny, except he was deaf.

Who knew?
 
The lab where I worked was next to the engineering dept. We had distilled water on tap, and the engineers would come over first thing in the morning to get water for their coffee pots. The distilled water tap got plugged somehow, so we called maintenance to come fix it. The morning after, when it was running free again, the engineers came over to fill their coffee pots again. While they're lined up taking their turns, they asked what it took to get it fixed. I said, well, it was pretty hard getting maintenance over here, but it didn't take them long to get it done. It was just a dead mouse in the faucet."

The little group of lined up engineers just turned on their heels, looking really sick.


I tried to tell them it was a joke, but nobody believed me.
 
This thread is very nice.



When I was in elementary school, we used to prank call people all the time. Yes, the era before caller ID. We would conference call two pizza places and then mute ourselves before the call was connected. Then it would be the Dominos guy asking the Little Caesars guy why the **** he called him in the first place, or it would be the manager at Hardees eventually picking up on the female McDonalds worker.

My most infamous incident occurred when I found my little brother's 3rd grade phonebook. The school had published phone numbers of all the kids K-6, in order of their teachers, and I decided to have some fun with little Tommy Jensen. I called his house, and no one picked up, but the answering machine did. I left a message, detailing how I was getting all of little Tommy's classmates (saying their names, as the phonebook outlined them) to beat him up after school tomorrow. Nothing vicious, just letting the little 3rd grade bitchass punk know we meant business. The message wasn't longer than maybe a minute or so. I hung up, feeling satisfied with my efforts, and left the room.

Some ten minutes later, our house phone rang. My older sister picked it up. Immediately from the tone in her voice, I knew I was in trouble. So I ran to the bathroom and locked the door. Sitting on the john for the next five minutes, listening to my sister try to dissuade little bitch Tommy's hysterical mother of the notion that her son was the target of a grade-school assault case, I unlocked the door and lurched my way to the phone to apologize. Apparently, the mother had heard my message, and became so frantic that she immediately called the police to find out who left the message.

Luckily, I was pretty good at weaseling out of trouble back then and told the bish that I ain't even know her little punk bitch kid, and it was all a joke, and, "yes, I'm sorry to have caused the trouble." Case closed.
 
I was America's bad boy. I once hid my dad's hat. And another time, I accidentally stepped in Mr. Wilson's flower bed.
 
Criminal act:
imagesdonut-prank_small.jpg
 
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