I’ve never been a big fan of April Fools’ Day. Not because I’ve been the recipient of some terrible pranks (though I have had a whoopee cushion or two placed in my seat during my elementary and junior high school days), but simply due to my inability to come up with good, effective, and, most importantly, safe pranks that people might get angry about initially, but laugh off minutes later. In the spring of 1998, I had found such a prank.
A few days earlier, I had the chance to find some disappearing ink at a local toy store. The gimmick seemed too unbelievable for my uninformed mind. I would need to test out this so-called “vanishing” ink on myself if I truly wanted to complete my goal of successfully pulling off my personal best April Fools’ Day prank yet. Taking a washrag when I returned home, I dropped some of the ink on the cloth. And could you believe it, the ink vanished! Incredibly giddy over this bold revelation, I had to plan. Who would be my victim? How would I make this work? When should I pull off this masterful scheme?
April 1st fell on a Wednesday that year, giving me ample time to plot and decide who was worthy of this incredible trickery. In reality, it could’ve been anyone. But by the middle of April Fools’ Day 1998, it became apparent that my fellow classmate Chris had earned himself a soaking.
Chris, a peculiar, hyperactive kid, took great pleasure in pranking my good friend Jason as a way to accomplish his April Fools’ Day agenda. By lunchtime, Jason had grown tired of the “Kick me” signs and balls of rolled up paper being thrown at the back of his head. Before gym class, I retrieved my disappearing inkbottle prior to warning Chris that if he didn’t calm down, I’d drench him with “refill ink for pens.”
I never gave him a chance to chill, squirting the ink directly on the middle of his white gym shirt. Chris threw a temper tantrum long enough for the ink to start vanishing. Angrier than ever, Chris stormed out of the changing room; me peeking out the door to see if his claims of telling the teacher on me were just a boast. I had nothing to fear, though, as the ink had was already invisible by the time he left the changing room. I could overhear our teacher telling Chris there was nothing on his shirt and he needed to stop acting out.
The look in Chris’ eyes was of unbridled defeat as he slowly returned to the changing room. All of the boys (including myself, of course) burst out in laughter when Chris stepped through the changing room’s door. My mission was a success. But the day wasn’t over. In fact, what happened next is another great story.
