‘Tis the Season.

It is Halloween time at our house.  We have the fun side and then, well, you know..  the “other” side.

The side where creepy pranks are played on one another.  We try to scare each other, not in horrendous ways, just in playful ways. 

Lynn and Ashley like to hide around corners from each other (and me too) to see if they can get a scare out of their intended victim.  It is usually quite funny.  Merrill is always easy to get, me, not so much. I am too used to having smallish people being everywhere I go.  If Lynn gets Ash, there are usually tears, initially, then laughs follow.

Lynn tries to get me.

Tries.

Today, in between doing loads of laundry, I left the light on in the laundry room while I went to put a blanket away upstairs.  She thought she was so sly.  She went downstairs, and I heard her yell, “BOO!”  Immediately following that attempted scare, I heard her footsteps running up the stairs.  She was a little freaked out to be down there by herself.

We laughed when she found me at the top of the stairs laughing at her.

I think she scared herself more than she ever could scare me.

My friend is a punk..

My dear friend, is a total punk! (Love ya, really..)
But she pulled an awesome April Fool's joke yesterday, and quite frankly, I am still recovering...
Apparently, she has pulled-off another doosy..
I might just have to start a support group...
I will be mulling over a retaliation for next year...

Merrill's Revenge: The tale of the pop-it rigged house...

Here's the sequel to my story from the past... or known also as "The Spider Stuck on the Seat".
Hope you enjoy :)
Imagine, one year later, summer of 2001, no longer residents in the smallish blue apartment. Instead, owners of a home, new to us, in South Ogden. It was (still is) a great home. Fuller now than it was then, the upstairs bedrooms are actually utilized as such; they are bedrooms now. Then, not so much. Just a couple of nice places to store our many hobby associated items and tools.. okay, my things.
We had just finished a day of pulling out a tree (the half dead tree referred to in a previous post..) and bushes from the front yard. We had also been moving some large rocks and arranging them better in the front flower beds. We were tired, totally pooped. Merrill came inside before I did to get the swamp cooler (a.k.a. evaporative cooler) going. I was outside cleaning some tools, putting them away.. Ken (my brother) stopped by. There was a rock too big for us to move, and he, partially being a Mayes, and the other factor, being a guy, thought he could move it. Not so much.. but that's not the point to this particular part of my story here.. he was witness to Merrill, screaming for me to come inside because there was a spider in our bathroom. I was (sometimes still am) the spider killer. My services were needed.
I came inside and straightaway, took care of that spider with some Charmin toilet paper, and promptly flushed the squished bugger down the loo. So you think he'd be grateful, right? He was.. and that is all the humiliation I can inflict upon him in this post, and I am taking full advantage of that. As I will be the one at who's expense you will soon be laughing.
So, I had killed the spider, disposed of it, rescued my arachnophobic prince, and thought, that was that..
But then...
I went to close the doors to those extra rooms, you know, the ones I spoke of above?.. you need to close the doors to the rooms you DON'T want to be cooled-off to enjoy the cool air of the swamper in the room of choice. This is the science I have learned from owning a swamp cooler.
I shut the first door, with no excitement, just the way shutting a door to a room filled with only "things" should be.
The second door was not so much that way. The door was nearly shut all the way, when, simultaneously, as the door's pin interlocked with it's home within the hole of the strike plate, there was a loud "pop!"... the left side of my face was pelted with what felt like sand... sand with velocity.
It freaked me out, to be quite honest.
When my heart began beating again, my mouth opened and yelled, "MERRILLLLL!!!"
The only reply I got from across the hall was his snicker.
I re-opened the door to investigate the method of his prank, and it was just as I had suspected, after the impulse thought of gunfire was ruled out; a pop-it, taped with scotch tape to the inside of the door jamb, nearest the hinge. Grayish-black film marked where the small explosion, that made me nearly pee my pants, took place.
That was cruel.. good, but cruel.
I didn't make the connection, yet. I would, though.. with some help.
He wasn't done.
I went to my side of the closet, changed into my PJs and slid the door shut. When the door stopped, in it's resting place against the wall, I was once again, greeted with the harassing "pop!" and subsequent shower of tiny rocks, again.
The grayish-black puff of color, and paper wrapper, scotch-taped to the wall, both remained as evidence of what had just transpired.
That time, the only reaction he got was a glare.
He produced more of a laugh this time at my reaction.
He did remind me, there was some justified revenge in his little prank. I provoked him, and this was his retaliation.
I racked my brain to ANYTHING I could have possibly have done to warrant such an assault.. and then recalled. Which made ME laugh. And I was expecting a well-placed picture of a clown (a.k.a. a serial killer in grease paint). This was not that.
But still, he was not done.
There would be one more, so strategically placed, so unassuming, I was certainly not expecting it. It would indeed, make his revenge perfect.
I entered our tiny master bathroom ( which still is tiny..) and I proceeded to remove my make-up, wash my face, and then brush my teeth.
The last of my nightly bedtime routine was to use the toilet..
I sat down upon the porcelain throne, just as I had many times before, not expecting anything out of the ordinary.. oh, but there was something..
One
Last
"POP!!!"
Tiny rocks once again pelted me, this time, below the belt, quite literally.
My bum to be outright specific.
Under assault.
Full on attack.
He succeeded.
I had to laugh.. yelling while on the toilet is unattractive I am sure.
And because it was funny...
There has not been a practical joke war of the likes since.
I'll admit, he won.
I couldn't help but laugh as I scrubbed the grayish-black pop-it mark off of the underside of the toilet seat later.

Story from the past...

Casey tagged me..
He's such a cute guy, so I'll do it, just for him! ;)
When Merrill and I were first married, we lived in a lovely, but small apartment. Summertime was the season in season at this particular time, and it was hot, and we were bored. Our new-found way of living was already, becoming monotonous... I needed to shake things up a bit.
I was at a party supply store (no, I was not going to throw a party to shake it up.. I really can't remember why I was there..) and I found a package of plastic spiders.. Merrill HATES spiders. I was the spider murderer in our house for a LONG time; he disliked them sooo much.
I was pondering what to do with these little pant-peeing-inducers, where to strategically place them and so forth, when I decided to consult my dad, the master of practical jokes.
He gave me the best spot, a better spot I would have never come up with in my own, inexperienced mind.
Under the toilet seat.
Right next to where his hand would have to be to lift the seat, to commence in doing his business..
So, I rushed home to plant the bugger, before he got home from work. I used a little dot of rubber cement, my scrapbooking adhesive at the time. It was there! Waiting...
He came home, and me, being the perfect wife, had a warm, balanced, nutritious dinner, waiting for him at the table.
I honestly thought he'd have to go use the facilities before dinner.. he didn't.
He probably was wondering what sort of girl he had married when I kept asking him, if he had to go to the bathroom.
"Don't you have to go yet? I mean.. you haven't gone at all since you've been home.."
Weirdo.. he must have been thinking..
Bedtime came. He brushed his teeth, but no toilet-using needs.
We said prayers.. then I asked him if he needed to go to the bathroom before we retired for the night.
Like I was his mom and he was a newly trained toddler who knew not the feeling of urgency.
Yup, wierd-o... me.
So, I let it go. Feeling much like a child on Christmas Eve, not being able to sleep due to much anticipation and excitement.
I finally did doze off...
I woke a little after seven.
No Merrill next to me in the bed.
A smile, a sly, satisfied, devilish smile surfaced on my tired face.
I went to find him.. and did.. sitting on the couch, remote in hand, watching Fox 13's morning newscast, with the angriest look on his face.. okay, maybe not so much anger.. more annoyance.
He proceeded to give me a full account of the event that transpired in the bathroom, much earlier that morning.
"I woke up around four, needing to go to the bathroom. I didn't turn on the light, I didn't want to disturb you.. I lifted the seat, and began.. then, as the sleep left my eyes, just enough, I saw something black on the toilet seat, right next to where my hand had been. I stopped.. and you know how bad that hurts Mindy!!! I backed-up, to get the broom from the closet. My plan was to hit it with the broom, and knock it into the toilet, then flush it. I kept hitting it, and it wasn't moving!! I hit it harder.. and nothing. Then it dawned on me.. IT WASN'T MOVING.. and I knew what you did. I was so full of adrenalin, and so mad, I couldn't go back to sleep.."
I was rolling!!!
Imagining him , trying to knock a fake spider off the toilet seat, from the opposite end of a broom.. in his PJs!!!
Oh.. I was so good!!!
Until he told me to watch out.. he was going to get me back...