Gateway {Mischief}: Chasing the Dragon

It all started in the first grade when my uncle showed me his detached finger. One minute it was totally normal, and the next minute, he’d slid off the outermost knuckle, holding it, waving it around, in his other hand. I was disgusted and perplexed, and after the reveal incredulous, fascinated, and then immediately obsessed.

A month later, allowance saved up, I bought my first prank, a fake snapping stick of gum. I greeted everyone with a generous offer—“Want a piece of gum?”—only to have their joy pinched off at the fingertip. The snap, mostly harmless, brought endless childlike delight to this child. Gotcha Gum ran its course, plus got pretty beat up from angry victims, so I moved on to the ole buzzer in the hand, upping the technology and voltage on my targets.

From there, I graduated on to the great American adolescent tradition of whoopie cushions, announcing my playfulness with a trumpeting fart sound. Whoopie cushions were church (and also great fun in church!) for a year, as I developed moving in quick silent bursts to embarrass the most unsuspecting behinds. But like everything else, the rush wore off after a while.

I needed more. I needed louder. I needed harsher. I was chasing the prank dragon everywhere I went.

I started pulling chairs from under people, changing alarm clock times, signing people up for recurring mail programs without their knowledge. The mischief leveled up with every accelerating shenanigan.

My high school classmates trusted me to run our senior class prank, which went off without a hitch, except for hitching the principal’s car to three oxen and having them pull it across the football field. And by trusting me, they knew I was occupied with THE class prank, it was less likely I’d keep screwing with them.

Nurturing the deviousness inside me became more and more of a full-time job. Next thing I knew, I was taking doors off houses and putting them back on the wrong way. And printing SALE! signs and leaving them all around stores.

I was a Shakespeare of highway road message boards. I was a Kaczynski of glittery birthday cards

I remember when things took a real turn. Vandalism seemed cute and shoplifting adorable. Things were getting out of hand, a snowball avalanching down a mountain, metaphorically, merely because I couldn’t figure out how to pull that off in real life.

So, your honor, I ask for leniency in your sentencing. For I am merely a victim of my psychological hard-wiring. This life chose me. When I greased the exit ramp, I just thought it would be funny to see cars fishtail and then slide back down slowly. I never expected an 18-wheeler to skid out into that school bus. I am very sorry about the kids, but hopefully the survivors will get an early lesson about the dangers of mischief that I never did.