Living with a Prankster

The other day as I held a ball-point pen, an electric pulse zapped my thumb as I pressed the top clicker. I yelped in surprise and immediately knew I had been duped. No, I was not at a gag store. I was just having a relaxing evening at home with my husband the prankster.

I should have known he was up to no good the way he casually asked me to check out the “cool” ink colour of the prank pen. As is the custom in our household, if he “gets” me, I have the right to “get” him back. So I subjected him to the same electric zap from the pen, although this time it was lacking the element of surprise which for him is actually worse. Big baby.

Throughout our relationship he has thrived on scaring, shocking, or tricking little ol’ scaredy-cat, ever-trusting, me. To say that our relationship is never boring is an understatement—rarely do a few days go by without some kind of “excitement.” His trickster ways are something I hate on the surface and often scold him for but deep down kind of like.

The very first prank he played on me was while we worked together at a laid-back office full of twenty and thirty-somethings. When I began noticing a funky smell near my desk and little flies swarming around my head, I knew something was seriously wrong. I opened my drawer and found an old beef taco—the stench made me almost lose my lunch. I instantly knew who the culprit was. It turns out Josh had put the beef taco there a week earlier and had meant to tell me about it sooner but forgot. Sure…

Since then his practical jokes have evolved as he has gotten to know me better. One trick was so simple, yet made me jump out of my skin. As I was cleaning around the house one day, my husband put on a creepy alien mask and stood still in a corner. As the unsuspecting victim, I breezed past him in the hall and noticed something strange out of the corner of my eye. I did a double-take and screamed. The fact that this alien-head was standing nonchalantly in the corner was much scarier than if he had jumped out from his hiding spot.

You must be wondering if I have ever gotten him back for all the tricks he has played on me. Sadly, the score goes something like this: Him – 96, Me – 1. The one and only time I’ve ever scared him is back when we worked at the office building.

As five o’clock approached and the office began emptying, Josh went to grab something from the kitchen. I took this opportunity to hide under his desk. I patiently waited until I heard footsteps approaching; when I saw his shoes within reach, I pounced on them and grabbed his leg. I heard his big intake of air as he gasped in shock. I often replay this crowning achievement in my mind after he pulls yet another prank on me.

Now that we have a baby daughter I’m hoping she’ll be my little ally and help me get her Daddy back. If she decides to team up with the prankster, I’m screwed. One good thing about all of these practical jokes I’ve endured (aside from the good laughs) is that it has taught me to be suspicious of everything; my spidey-senses almost tingle now when I notice something is out of the ordinary. This is all good practice for parenting, I suspect.

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