Practical Jokes? Blame It on My Dad - It's in My DNA

Recently I posted a meme on Facebook, thanking friends who rather than judge chose to participate in some of my wild adventures as a youth. Of course that caused me to promise to publish back stories from some of those crazy times. And with April Fool's Day coming up in a few weeks, I figured one on practical jokes was a good place to start.

I grew up with a dad who was fond of playing practical jokes. In fact, when my siblings and I were little, he helped us play jokes on my mom, who wasn't a fan of jokes at all (sorry mom, but your sense of humor was a little sparse). He would get a kick out of the results and of course could blame it on the kids. I still remember things like salt in the sugar dish, sugar in the salt shaker, clear cellophane tape across the toilet seat (thanks to a huge supply from the 3M employee store - my dad was a 3M lifer), and a rubber band around the lever for the sprayer for the kitchen sink.

He also encouraged us to make prank phone calls. Or we'd answer the phone in weird voices or phrases, such as, "Donatello's Mob Mortuary, you stab 'em, we slab 'em." I still remember the evening I answered the phone and said, "Lucy's Luscious Ladies, how may we serve you?" The male voice, after a long pause, said, "I was told Tom Ray could be reached at this number." So I yelled into the room, away from the phone, "Hey girls, anybody got a Tom Ray with her tonight?" My dad grabbed the phone, realizing it was probably important. It was; his boss was calling. I expect he explained his way out of it, but we weren't allowed to do that anymore. The prank phone calls, however, continued.

But then there was the night of the toilet papering spree. Back when I was a teen, it was a common prank to strew toilet paper on someone's house. I was in an on-again, off-again relationship with a guy I dated through most of high school, and at this particular time we were 'off.' He kind of annoyed me with how he was acting, so I got together a few of my girlfriends to go TP his house. My dad of course wasn't fond of the idea of a bunch of teenage girls using his car to carouse after dark, so he offered to chaperone. God bless him. He also was the one who went into Country Club on Arcade and bought the large size package of toilet paper. A few giggling girls would have raised suspicion; a fatherly type man wouldn't. He had thought of everything.

So we drove to the guy's house and my dad parked the car in the alley because the light was on beside his front door. We crept around mostly staying to the dark part of the yard but had to sneak around to the front because that's where the toilet paper would really be on display from the street.

At some point we heard a commotion in the house and the front door came open. We girls disappeared, and his mom opened the door to look out, only to see some strange man standing in her front yard with a roll of toilet paper in his hand. Fortunately she ran inside to call her husband, allowing my dad to escape down the side yard to the alley and we took off. I don't know if his family ever figured out who the culprits were (Scott, if you're reading this...a 50-year belated 'sorry, not sorry.')

I can't remember who the girlfriends were, and even if I did, I'd still cover for them. Not everybody is as up front about their wild child years as I am. I wish I could say I learned my lesson, but there were more wild adventures to come. Stay tuned.