Yesterday was April Fool's day, and I had so much fun reading other people's posts on Facebook and Twitter. One exclaimed, Oh no! Facebook and Twitter are merging and making one company called TwitFace. Stant Litore announced he was publishing a book of zombie erotica called Fifty Shades of Decay. So forth and so on.
I don't like the kind of April Fool's day pranks that humiliates someone or impedes their day or ruins their coffee so that food and expense must be wasted. Also I'm not clever enough to come up with witty posts.
But once I pranked someone.
I was taking a summer course in US History so I could have space for a course I really wanted in the next high school year. When the teacher arrived at WWII, he reminisced about how he had eaten spam in every form known to mankind, and he loathed the stuff. That afternoon I bought a can of spam, emptied it on a white paper plate, wiped all the goo and moisture off, gave it a thick coating of white frosting and placed on top a pair of white sugar doves. I took a beautiful card and wrote inside about what a wonderful teacher he was (and that part I was sincere about) and the next morning arrived early to class so I could slip the cake and card on the table without his knowledge.
When he arrived, he instantly read the card. Then he thanked the class and choked up. Tears gathered in his eyes at this kind of appreciation.
Inside, I cringed. Oh, no. I hadn't thought he would take it seriously. Oh, how hurt was he going to be? I needed to confess it was a joke, but I didn't have the courage.
The next day he stood in front of the desk, folded his arms, and stated that when he had picked up the cake, he had thought it was awfully heavy. He had to admit that no, he had never been served spam that way. And then he laughed.