We were in the thick of summer. We had probably played softball 45 times in 30 days and we were bored with it. As it turns out, we were bored with everything summer had to offer. Boredom plus five fellows with a bizarre sense of humor equals trouble. Fortunately, as hard as it tried, trouble rarely found us. I don't remember ever once getting caught for one of our kooky and outlandish pranks.
We had in our group what one might call a "tagalong". He was two years younger than any of us and he would do anything just to be around us for a few minutes. Most people who read this blog will know who I am talking about, but for anonymity's sake, I will refer to him as "Treg". (Treg is actually a very cool guy whom we all became quite good friends with as time passed.)
When Treg knocked on the door that droll, tedious summer afternoon, we knew he was in for a treat. What we had not decided was what that treat might entail. He was always game for anything. With the TV flicking back and forward from MTV to HBO's crappy movie of the week, so were we. One of my friends always had a creative passion for moments like this. As we welcomed Treg in, my friend returned from the kitchen with a box of Saran Wrap.
When wrapping things of any size, Saran Wrap is really the way to go. BYU saran wraps their statues the week they play Utah, my mom saran wrapped the extra slice of pizza for our lunch the next day and my brother saran wrapped his arm casts to keep moisture out when swimming. Greg certainly was excited about the prospect of saran wrapping his body.
Wrapping three rolls around Treg's torso was not the best part. The highlight was decorating his face in makeup and his hair with flowers. Treg took it all with a smile on his face and a chip in his hop. He looked like a strangely formed merman without arms. It was still early in the day. What a perfect opportunity to show the neighbors!
We dragged Treg into the front yard. My other friend returned from the backyard with a sturdy wheelbarrow. We carefully set Treg down and off we were to find the best doorstep in the Sugarhouse community.
We arrived at the doorstep of a crazy old woman that lived in our ward. She was not really crazy, just peculiarly eccentric. (She had 7 cats and fake flowers in her flower beds.)
What should be the best part of the story is now a little hazy. Perhaps some of my buddies that read this blog can help me out? I remember hiding behind some bushes after dropping him off and ringing the doorbell. Unfortunately, I do not recall what the woman said or did when she came to the door. My best recollection is that she had a strange look on her face and said, "Well, what do we have here? What is this all about?"
It was about this time that we knew that the joke had gone far enough. We were the masters of taking a prank just far enough that we knew we would not get in trouble for it. We had an imperious sense of knowing just when to pull the plug. Instead of leaving Treg there to rot with the old, crazy lady, we rescued him from impending doom. We welcomed Treg back into the fold. It only took 6 more similar pranks before he was officially welcomed as one of us.
Treg, if you read this blog, as you might, I sincerely apologize to you for this (and other) series of unfortunate events. It should have been me in that wheelbarrow and on that old ladies doorstep. I should have taken that saran wrapped bullet for you.