When I was little, my dad and I used to play a little prank on one another. I had one of those little plastic spider rings that kids get on Halloween, one with the really long legs that almost looks like a spider if you glance at it from afar. I don't remember who started it, but my dad and I used to take turns hiding it in various places in the house: under coffee cups, blankets, pillows, even ...inside the medicine cabinet. We were gleeful when we could get the other to yelp or squeal, though we were seasoned pranksters by now, and so a true scare was rare but priceless.
This continued on into my college years. On my last day of spring break, I had left it behind hidden underneath my dad's comforter, even forgetting I had done so. When I called him after my plane landed, he recounted how he had been so certain it was an actual spider this time, that he had approached the bed with a rolled up newspaper. These were tame pranks, certainly, much more vanilla than those that I have been a party to throughout my life, but there was something so satisfying about genuinely startling someone over something so small.
While I would like to say maturity had made me leave such behaviors behind, I'm not going to lie, so I won't. I will instead say that when I saw a lifelike plastic rat at a thrift shop down the street, I was particularly gleeful. Though I was shopping for supplies for an art project, I saw it and thought instantly of my husband who had what he described as a "phobia of all vermin, but rats especially, having grown up on a farm." I purchased it and began plotting my prank on the drive to the house.
At home, I was a human tornado as I threw open drawers and cupboards trying to find the best place for it. I placed it under pillows and blankets, and practiced pulling off the blanket as he would if he were getting ready for bed. The rat was bulky, however, and did not have the same covert abilities as the spider, so finding the right spot was proving difficult.
Perplexed, I turned to the kitchen. Looking from cabinet to cabinet, my eyes rested on the microwave. Suddenly, it hit me... The microwave! It was perfect! The first thing my husband does when he gets up in the morning is brew coffee. While he's waiting, he would grab his travel mug from the fridge with his Starbucks that he saved and would heat it in the microwave. Because it is so early when he gets up, he does this all in the dark.
Placing the rat in the microwave, I shut the door. The rat disappeared. Then, I turned off the lights, walked back over to the microwave and opened it. The door swung open, the light turned on, and there the rat was, in all its terrifying ugliness. "Mwahahahaha!" I thought.
I opened and closed the microwave a few more times, giggling to myself. Satisfied, I finally shut the microwave door, and returned to my art project. He wouldn't be home until late, and I wouldn't have to worry about the plan being discovered.
As I worked a little longer, however, I started to worry. What if he has an actual phobia? What if he gets angry? What if I start a prank war that he takes too far and he puts actual spiders in my bed? The more I thought about it, the more I thought I should call it off, but a little voice reminded me of how it was all in good fun between my dad and I, and Chris would feel the same. Shaking out the worried thoughts, I remained determined.
A few hours later, it was late, and Chris had still not arrived home. Wanting to wait up a little longer, I decided to make some tea. With a mug of water in hand, I popped open the microwave. Instantly, I dropped the mug as I screamed a bloodcurdling scream with the cup shattering everywhere and water splashing across the floor.
I had forgotten about the rat.
I had pranked myself.
Needless to say, I called it off.
This continued on into my college years. On my last day of spring break, I had left it behind hidden underneath my dad's comforter, even forgetting I had done so. When I called him after my plane landed, he recounted how he had been so certain it was an actual spider this time, that he had approached the bed with a rolled up newspaper. These were tame pranks, certainly, much more vanilla than those that I have been a party to throughout my life, but there was something so satisfying about genuinely startling someone over something so small.
While I would like to say maturity had made me leave such behaviors behind, I'm not going to lie, so I won't. I will instead say that when I saw a lifelike plastic rat at a thrift shop down the street, I was particularly gleeful. Though I was shopping for supplies for an art project, I saw it and thought instantly of my husband who had what he described as a "phobia of all vermin, but rats especially, having grown up on a farm." I purchased it and began plotting my prank on the drive to the house.
At home, I was a human tornado as I threw open drawers and cupboards trying to find the best place for it. I placed it under pillows and blankets, and practiced pulling off the blanket as he would if he were getting ready for bed. The rat was bulky, however, and did not have the same covert abilities as the spider, so finding the right spot was proving difficult.
Perplexed, I turned to the kitchen. Looking from cabinet to cabinet, my eyes rested on the microwave. Suddenly, it hit me... The microwave! It was perfect! The first thing my husband does when he gets up in the morning is brew coffee. While he's waiting, he would grab his travel mug from the fridge with his Starbucks that he saved and would heat it in the microwave. Because it is so early when he gets up, he does this all in the dark.
Placing the rat in the microwave, I shut the door. The rat disappeared. Then, I turned off the lights, walked back over to the microwave and opened it. The door swung open, the light turned on, and there the rat was, in all its terrifying ugliness. "Mwahahahaha!" I thought.
I opened and closed the microwave a few more times, giggling to myself. Satisfied, I finally shut the microwave door, and returned to my art project. He wouldn't be home until late, and I wouldn't have to worry about the plan being discovered.
As I worked a little longer, however, I started to worry. What if he has an actual phobia? What if he gets angry? What if I start a prank war that he takes too far and he puts actual spiders in my bed? The more I thought about it, the more I thought I should call it off, but a little voice reminded me of how it was all in good fun between my dad and I, and Chris would feel the same. Shaking out the worried thoughts, I remained determined.
A few hours later, it was late, and Chris had still not arrived home. Wanting to wait up a little longer, I decided to make some tea. With a mug of water in hand, I popped open the microwave. Instantly, I dropped the mug as I screamed a bloodcurdling scream with the cup shattering everywhere and water splashing across the floor.
I had forgotten about the rat.
I had pranked myself.
Needless to say, I called it off.
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