What pranks have you pulled off? Were you successful? Did you get caught?
Have you been pranked? What happened?
What do you think about playing tricks on people? Is it funny? Rude? Cruel? Does it depend on the circumstances?
Writing Prompt: Pranks
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Deborah Cullen
I love April Fool’s Day with middle school students! I greeted all of my classes at the door today, there were no lights on in the room, and I told them all to sit at the tables in the front as there was a power outage. A squirrel or rat or something must have chewed through the power line for the classroom. I teach COMPUTER CLASSES, so you don’t get to do much without electricity. Some kids asked, “What about the chromebooks?” I explained those were working because they have batteries, but there aren’t enough for each student to use one, so we were going to have to figure out who would share them, partner up, etc. After several minutes, some of the more astute students asked if I was joking. Most had no clue. When one student pointed out a flashing light on behind me, I said, “That’s for the alarm system, it’s on its own circuit.” (That is, at least partially, probably true.) After a few minutes — some classes didn’t even question the outage story at all — I pointed to the date on the board and looked at them all inquiringly. THEN it would dawn on them I was joking; they all laughed and then went to work. I made them all promise not to tell any of my other classes, and the few students who were in my class for some reason earlier in the day were sworn to secrecy and even helped to promote to outage story — “Is the power STILL out?” Students really enjoyed the prank (except for the ones who thought they were going to get to go play basketball!) and several even high-fived me!
mcullen Post author
Deborah, I love this story . . . not only what happened . . . the way you tell it engages the reader, making this reader want to know what other pranks you have pulled off! Brilliant planning, excellent acting (I am sure) . . . something those students will always remember. Thanks for posting.
Ke11y
Mr. Bryant, our neighbor, collected gnomes to stand among the Dahlias in his garden. He was a well-respected grower and when the time came to cut and sell them, a line formed outside his house. He was not a nice man. They said he hadn’t been a nice man since his wife died, but as kids, we didn’t understand. We knew only that he never smiled, nor let us retrieve our soccer ball when it came over his fence. He was real mad all the time. I had too much courage for my own good; pals said when I went and knocked on his door, which my mother had forbidden me to do, saying that Mr. Bryant was sad and needed to be on his own and not be bothered. I only had one soccer ball, so it was a matter of life and death in the street to get it back. Mr. Bryant eventually came to the door, after fifteen minutes of banging and shouting, because I knew he was in the house, having seen him get off the bus, which stopped close to home. In his garden there were over a hundred gnomes among his flowers, all sitting there with funny faces and bright colors. I never knew why he stopped gardening. The Dahlias were bent over and dying. He growled at me real bad. Damn near knocked my head off with a swipe of his hand. “Clear off you little brat, stop bothering me or I’ll go to your parents.” Phew, it was pretty scary I can tell you. Well, we weren’t going to get our ball back.
When it got real dark, George Snow met me on the field at the back of Mr. Bryant’s house. We sneaked over his garden fence to get the soccer ball. The next morning and no-one quite knew how this happened, a hundred gnomes were lined up at the bus stop, waiting for the 8.20 AM bus to school.
Heck, Mr. Bryant was madder than a March hare when he found out. Mother asked if I knew anything about it. I tried to lie, but she knew better. After school, she made me, on my own, go and put every one of the gnomes back in Mr. Bryant’s garden. I never told that George helped me because we didn’t do that, you know, split on friends. George gave me his lunch sandwiches the next day for saying nothing. I took them and ate them, too. Well earned.
When Christmas Day came, four months later, the best present I got was a soccer ball. It was from Mr. Bryant. I don’t think he ever really stopped weeping. I understand him more today.
mcullen Post author
Ah Kelly, you really do have the story-telling gift. Or, is it the ability for truth-telling in an impelling manner? Your stories make me want to read the next and the next and the next. Keep ’em coming.
Ke11y
Always so kind, Marlene. Thank you.
mcullen Post author
And always a joy to read your writing, Kelly.