I will admit that one of my favorite things in the world is teaching my friend's kids bullshit facts about things that they will almost certainly bring back to school.
I take pride in my ability to weave a web of lies so inescapable that even the smartest two year old will leave my presence believing that timbits, once planted, will grow into donut trees, or that their Barbies will almost certainly become fairies if they are thrown onto their parent's fully lit BBQs.
It is not always two year olds that I choose to use and abuse to my own amusement. Sometimes I will prey on those closest to me, just to see how far I can push them, in the name of comedy... of course...
Throughout highschool, my partner in all different types of lecherous behavior was my best friend Sarah. Undeniably, the main reason that we are still friends to this day, is because neither of us would be comfortable thinking the other is snitching. Its a love built on mutual fear, and that is the kind of love that millions of things could come between, but we have made it this far, and so, hats off to you my dear, I hope our perilous love continues.
Unless you fuck with me and then I will not hesitate to cut you.
As teenagers, just breaking into our stride, we were fantastically talented at convincing people to do things that they otherwise would never have even considered. I was a dynamo at convincing people to hand over all their alcohol to me, in the pretense that I would hide it from some unknown, and completely bullshit threat.
One of our favorite pastimes was to go to LG parties (LGs- the mission equivalent to Miley Cyrus, or hookers. Same same but different) and walk in, yelling and hopping around like Yosemite Sam, screaming about how we had to take this party down a notch, and hide all the booze because we just caught wind of the fact the cops were coming.
Enter the white knight, graciously accepting the huge responsibility of hiding all their alcohol in the trunk of my car, "just around the corner", until the cops left, at which time we would "be right back"... aka we would be loaded, at a secret location... aka my hood... aka... my dads house...
We were so good at pulling off this little snafu that we managed to do so numerous times, and once even left the party, with a wheel barrow full of under aged kids' booze, and just walked down the road with it, rejoicing in the fruits of our labour.
Now, we didn't stop our little game of "who can we mind fuck until they give up their innocence" at just other people's siblings, and the 13 year old sluts down the street, we would also prey on our close friends, who were usually the easiest ones to break like shelter dogs.
One such occasion was with our friend Paul, in what we later called "the ding dong debacle".
Paul (name changed for obvious reasons) was friends with Sarah's older sister, and made the undeniable mistake of thinking he could come over and hang out with us, and leave with his ego intact.
Paul, being the gentleman that he is, brought over a two-six (750ml for all you non-Canadians) of Vodka.
Sarah and I were 14 at the time, so I'm sure we can all assume he was only going to drink it himself, because us drinking vodka at 14 would be wrong... or whatever.
Not being the type of people to let a true gentleman drink alone, Sarah and I graciously accepted the responsibility.
Surprisingly, this was my first time drinking. So after I had taken two whole sips, and gracefully fallen off the toilet mid-wee, we decided that we should go drink the rest of it, or at least another shot or two, cause we was gangstaaaa, in the field at a school near Sarah's house.
Upon arrival, and Paul going tits up, if you will, Sarah and I casually mention that we would perform perverse sexual acts on Paul if he were to say... take of his clothes, and run around the dirt path that bordered the 10 acre field, and was populated by no less than 5 families, 2 geriatric dog walkers, and a single person trying to take an innocent sunny-day bike ride.
Now, the first thing you have to understand, is that neither myself, nor my partner in crime, was even remotely close to ever doing any perverse sexual acts with anyone. We were 14.. and although many of you might have been into this sort of thing when you were 14, we were more into using the idea to make people embarrass themselves, as well as weed. We were really really into weed....
So after making entirely sure that we would go through on our promise, by asking a grand total of once, Paul whipped off his clothes, and began his fated run around the field.
I must admit, that from afar, Paul was a glorious sight, twig and berries bobbing about in the breeze, as he jogged past young and old alike, in pursuit of every man's dream: statutory rape.
Paul made, not one, because we weren't going to let him get off that easy, but two laps around the field, firmly, and permanently scarring the minds of any person who happened to be ill fated enough to be there.
On his second lap around the soon to be named fail trail, the lone biker decided to come up behind Sarah, and I, making the full extent of Paul's fate fully clear.
Sarah's mom, hoping for nothing more than a short bike ride, and a bit of waving her hair back and forth, came up just as Paul was prancing up like a young stallion in a field full of hot horse bitches.
She firmly planted herself in the grass behind us, while Sarah and I pissed our pants from laughing, and watched as Paul tried to hide his giggle berries by firmly inserting them in a small, 4 inch deep patch of clovers.
Sarah's mother, bless her incredible patience, and ability to turn and walk away from all kinds of situations that were completely and inexplicably horrifying for any parent, took my excuse for skipping school (that we burnt the macaroni noodles.. no she didnt believe me, but she wasnt about to gaze upon Paul's noodly bit now was she) and left.
Paul stayed completely exposed (although we never told him that his white ass was a shining beacon for all to see) for another minute before coming back to claim his prize.
Without a doubt, this is probably one of my favorite moments of all time.
There is a certain look that comes over a person's face when they realize that all is for not, and realize simultaneously, that 2 children have outsmarted them.
It is the look of a soul breaking.
It is my favorite.
And I will never forget the first moment that I saw it, creeping across Paul's face, while he stood naked, 5 feet away from a kindly old grandmother, who was walking her dog, and got the thrill of her geriatric life.
It also taught both Sarah and I a lesson about ourselves that I am sure neither of us will ever forget, and has come in handy far too often:
It is very hard to navigate a flawless wee, whilst heavily intoxicated.
Wtf else did you think I was going to say? It's uncouth to joke about statutory rape. For shame.
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