The Case of the Missing Mummy Part One - The Cultivation of a Prank

Ok, you already know that I’m always up for a good joke. And if you have a spectacular prank in mind, then I am there!

Normally, the elaborate pranks are reserved for April Fool’s Day. And they are commonly played on my mom. I know, I could take it easy on the woman who nurtured me for nine…ok ten...closer to ten months and once I was born, I realize I have not been any easier on her.

My defense is that it is my job to keep her young.

See, Mom! I’m looking out for your best interests!

There were the severe stomach cramps that my mom thought I either had something severely wrong with me in the OB/GYN sense or that I had a burst appendix. When she told me she was going to take the rest of the day off to drive to Bloomington to be with her eldest child in her hour of need, I callously cried “April Fool’s!” but let her know that I was deeply touched that she’d go to those lengths for me.

I can occasionally act and one year, I called her crying and told her that I’d been on the counters to reach something (I’m vertically challenged) when I slipped and hit my arm against the counter. Oh, I also thought it was broken. She told me that she and Charlie would be there in a ten minutes.

“April Fool’s,” I told her.

I found out that Charlie ran a red light in his haste to rush my mother to the rescue.

My favorite was the Atlanta terrorist plot. She was driving my sibs and some of their friends from Florida over spring break. It was raining like God was flooding the earth again. And if the rain didn’t slow things down, the RVs of the Snow Birds that were returning to their summer nesting grounds brought traffic to a stand still.

In the end, the 13-hour trip took 20 hours.

I knew they were going slow, knew that they were all getting cabin (car?) fever.

I also knew they hadn’t gotten past Atlanta yet.

I called and told her that the FBI received intelligence about an attack, a car loaded with explosives heading for the airport, and all traffic coming into the city was undergoing a search.

She cussed and told Kevin to look at the trip-tick for a route around Atlanta.

I silently chuckled as I knew I had her eating out of the palm of my hand.

And right as I was to deliver my little coup de grace, the signal cut out.

Five minutes later, I had yet to get through to my family and tell them the joke. I began to panic. Finally, I heard ringing instead of the prissy Verizon woman's voice. Cautiously, I felt my mom out to see if they had made the turn off yet. When I found out they were still on the interstate heading for Atlanta, I breathed a sigh of relief and then reminded my mother of the date.

She was not amused.

I didn’t learn my lesson.

As evidenced by my 2009 April Fool’s compliments of the a beautiful acting job by the LB see “A Real April Fool or How I Always Terrorize My Mom” in April 2009.

But April Fool’s isn’t the only day I work. As long as the price (or target) is right, I’m all for pranks.

Enter Christmas Day. The HKs were at the Aunt Melody and Uncle Chris’s house playing monopoly (not very sportsmanlike too) and drinking margaritas when my father called me to tell us about the Underwear Bomber.

We stopped what we were doing (which was fine with me because my 8-year-old cousin TOTALLY screwed over the LB and me and we were paying fines like the IRS was accusing of us not paying 20 years of back taxes).

Once we got the details and determined everyone was okay, we started joking about all the terrorists and people and somehow an idea was born.

Now, before you can understand the idea, I have to lay out a few details.

We live in Indiana. I am a Colts fan. My mother is a Colts fan. So is my Uncle Danny (Chris and my mother’s brother) and my mother’s friend Charlie. My uncle Chris is a Steeler’s fan. Danny has two sons that are for the the Cowboys and the Bears. My brother and sister are Titans fans.

Now I’ve had my years of superstition watching the Yankees in the World Series and reluctantly deduced that it didn’t matter if I watched the game in a certain seat at a certain restaurant, wore a certain shirt or pair of underwear, did my hair a certain way, made my bed a certain way…if Lady Fate was against my men in pinstripes, she was against them.

Superstitions should only "work" for those competing. For instance, it was different when I was a gymnast and I found a comfortable superstition in the applesauce muffins (low fat) and lime Gatorade that I had to have available during the meet as well as the other little ridiculous superstitions I had that required me to chalk my grips prior to bars in a certain way, etc.

Anyway, getting back to superstitions…Charlie has a mummy at his house. This is a life-size mummy. It is even taller than me. He’s had this mummy for years. Last year, my cousins liked playing with The Mummy at my mom’s birthday party. This year, something compelled them to put a Colt’s poncho on The Mummy and to complete the outfit with a Colts cap. Prior to Halloween, The Mummy was kept upstairs and watched the games with them. After Halloween, The Mummy was put downstairs. When the Colts started to lose, my mom made Charlie get The Mummy from the basement.

Since then, The Mummy has remained upstairs and has watched every game…even when Charlie and my mom were not home. That’s right. My mom and Charlie turned on the TV for the The Mummy to “watch” the game.

Now, back to Christmas Day at the Aunt and Uncle’s.

Chris, author of Iron Tail and Santa Claw and all things that terrified me as a child, suddenly got the beautiful idea of kidnapping The Mummy.

The timing would be perfect. Mom and Charlie would be in Florida over New Year’s giving us a perfect opportunity to nab The Mummy.

He looked at me and said, “You have to keep your mouth shut and not tell anyone.”

I glared at him “Not tell anyone? Chris, I’m in on this too. I’m always up for a good prank even if it involves Colts.”

We talked more about the kidnapping and how it would be hilarious if the kidnappers took a picture with The Mummy, especially if the kidnappers were dressed as terrorists.

Screw a picture, we would post a ransom video.

With an idea, we left and waited for the mother to leave. Finally the day of reckoning came. Only, I began to think. I drive a small Saturn. Kevin drives a Jetta. A six-foot-tall mummy isn’t exactly going to fit. I made Kevin call his friends, and we found a driver in his friend Andrew which worked perfectly because we also decided that it would be hilarious to video tape us disguised as those terrorists searching the house for The Mummy.

We planned it out in the car. We would go into the house in our Titans jerseys, scarves wrapped around our heads and big aviator sunglasses on to conceal our identities and hoot and holler in “Arabic,” a language I learned from watching “Team America” that consisted of me saying “durka, durka dan.” I don’t know where the LB learned his Arabic though he was slightly more fluent than me.

Once we arrived at Charlie’s house, we had to find the key. We had been in contact with his son who told us where the key was hidden. The only problem was that the key was not where we were told. We then made some calls to Charlie’s daughter to be met with no answer. Luckily, his daughter worked at the mall and the mall wasn’t too far from his house. Minor detour, and the plan was back on.

We arrive at Charlie’s house again and do a look-through. The Mummy is right there in the kitchen/great room off of the garage. Then Kevin decides it would look great if he takes his shoulder and forces the door open (by leaving the door open, but looking closed). We walk through it with our cameraman and then it’s lights, camera, action!

The Mummy is ours! Who are we? The Brotherhood of the Titans. We even have our own email address and Facebook page, where we plan on posting the video of us nabbing The Mummy (we wanted YouTube, but are fully aware that some people have no sense of humor).

Leaving The Mummy in the garage, Kevin and Andrew go out the access door to lay down the seats in Andrew’s Cherokee. I move The Mummy close to the garage door, but when I place The Mummy on the ground, The Mummy falls over. I right him, then hit the garage door opener. The boys gather him and we leave.

Basking in the glow of our victory and amazing prank, we’re laughing in the car when the LB looks back and says “Where’s his hat?”

I look and there is no hat. The Mummy had a hat on and there is no hat. Not too worried about this, I tell him it’s probably in the garage, then call Charlie’s daughter to pick up the hat.

She said she’d try, but she was staying with her mom while Charlie was out of town. I didn’t see what the big deal was until a few mornings later when we learned that hat was signed by Peyton Manning…

TO BE CONTINUED!

A Little Jelly a Month

My favorite smurf is Jokey Smurf.

I’m sure its going to come as no surprise to those of you who know me or have read enough of my blogs to hear that (and no, I do not mean in the Ted Kazcynski-Una Bomber sort of way).

He knew the value of a joke. While Papa was all serious, Vanity was stuck in his mirror, and Brainy flipping out, Jokey had no stress and just laughed.

While I would like to say think that I encompass the spirit of Jokey, I know I do not. I do get Papa Smurf serious. And every now and then, I have a Brainy Smurf meltdown. But, if the opportunity presents itself, I make sure to let Jokey’s influence bubble to the surface.

Case in Point: Christmas Time.

Last year, I sent Andrea on a movie-quoting quest to capture her present. Kevin’s Xbox game was wrapped in several packages, and we gifted someone with a “donation” made to the Human Fund (Seinfeld reference).

I was aware that this year would be hard to top all that.

I tried to think of ideas to top the Human Fund for our family gift exchange (a la Chinese Christmas, Yankee Swap, Dirty Santa, etc).

I knew what I wanted my gift to be. Beer. Alcohol. Wine. It’s pretty much always the same. But I wanted “disguise” it. My family KNOWS what a case of Bud Light looks like. And to get maximum amount of fun out of this game, I knew I had to hide the beer.

I tried several ideas.

They were so terrible I can’t even remember what they were.

And then, watching Christmas Vacation, brilliance struck.

I literally wanted to say “Hallelujah! Holy Shit!”

Yes, my gift would be disguised as “The Jelly of the Month Club.”

Because I’m pretty good with Publisher, I got these grand ideas involving tri-fold brochures and certificates. I would pimp this faux-gift out.

But things being as they are and work being crazy as always and considering all of the wine bottle I drank while on a week-long vacation, it was the morning of Christmas Eve and I had the brochures and certificate to complete.

I pull out my MacBook and realize that I don’t have Publisher.

Yeah, I cussed as I pulled up Microsoft word and formatted the document so it was landscape and three columns. Then I had to figure out what went where like where would the cover be, the back, the insides. So I folded up a test paper and began to sketch in my mind where I wanted everything to go.

I sit down and then all of a sudden want to kill someone.

I have forgot to mention that Hans, the sister’s Danish fiancé is in town.

Well, Andrea is wrapping presents and Kevin and Hans are sitting on the couch ABSOLUTELY annoying the piss out of me!

Hans keeps saying

“Freda Felcher…From Cranston…”

And every time before he says it, he does some elaborate “fillidallying” thing with his tongue. It is permeating my brain driving my crazy. Andrea isn’t too happy with it either. And then Kevin begins mimicking Hans.

I put the laptop down and berated them. It didn’t help. I was seriously about to screw up my prank because of some screwballs who were completely ridiculous and if they were both closer in weight to me and not 100+ pounds more than me, I would have SO beat them down.

Andrea got involved.

Finally, they shut up.

The brochure and the certificate got done. After a few edits and changes, I printed it out on some really nice tan paper to make it look “official.”

I stuck it all in a weight sack with an actual sample of jelly in it and I was ready for the games to commence.

At dinner, I was sitting with my sibs and my cousin Brennan who asked me what I brought for the gift exchange. I try not to disappoint. I didn’t out and out tell him, but I told him that if he knew my M.O., that he would not be disappointed.

Then I told my little buddy, eight-year-old Brenton, which gift was mine so he would “steer” people to my gift. Sometimes this works, sometime it doesn’t.

Brennan, my older cousin was the third person to draw, and this time, it worked. He picked up the gift Brenton pointed out and asked me if this was my gift. I shrugged my shoulders and Brennan pulled out a blue folder that had all of the information for the Jelly of the Month Club. He looked at it and laughed. Then read it all out loud for us.

“Is this for real?” he asked me.

“Look at the ‘flavor of the month’ and read December’s,” I said to him referring to the panel that showed the showcased jelly .

The “flavor” for December was Bud Light and Boone’s Farm.

When I buy, I aim to please everyone. Bud for the boys and Boone’s for the girls!

And no, I didn’t disappoint!

If the Zombies Come, It Is Every Man for Himself

I admit to living with my head in the clouds a vast majority of the time.

It's just that...things in fiction are so much better than things in real life!

Its just that in fiction, Mr. Darcy asks me to marry him, Edward Dante swings in from a chandelier and kills my wretched, evil husband, and the Scarlet Pimpernel rescues me and my brother from the hands of Chauvelin and the future acquaintance of Mademoiselle La Guillotine.

So, does it come as a shock to anyone that at 11 p.m. at night, after drinking margaritas (made with vodka instead of tequila), I decided to cultivate a "Zombie Outbreak Plan" with my brother once he turned on Doomsday?

"So, where we would get a stock pile of weapons?" I asked Kevin.

I got a dirty look in return.

"I mean, like, come on...we need weapons to survive the zombies."

"Um, the armory?" he ventured.

"Would they have weapons there?"

"I don't see why not," he said.

"Ok, well, where could we hide? Like, would we have a command post?"

"I don't know," Kevin said.

"Or would we be nomads?" Kevin doesn't answer. "Probably nomands. So, we would probably be best off in a fuel-efficient SUV...do we know anyone with a fuel-efficient SUV?"

"No," Kevin says focused on Rhona Mitra and her hotness.

"Ok, I guess that means we need to hotwire the car since we can already break into cars (see "Oh You Know, Just Been Hanging Out Breaking Into My Car). Where we would learn this?"

Kevin doesn't say anything and chooses to communicate by shrugging his shoulders.

"Ok, so, like...where are we going to go? Just drive around? You know, a wagon might not be a bad idea. Yeah, I know, I hate wagons - they should all have wood panelling because the sport doesn't change the fact that your Mercedes is a STATION WAGON, but if zombies have taken over the world, I don't think I'm going to mind what I'm driving. Except that with the SUV, there is kind of room to stand and move around.

Kevin is silent.

"Agree?"

"Sure," he said.

"You know, you could get into this a little bit more. This is our survival plan."

"I'm pretty sure zombies aren't real."

"Really?" I asked in a petulant tone. "Do you know that? For a fact? Stranger things have happened, Kevin. Who knows what will happen in the future."

"I know. And zombies won't be happening."

"Yeah? Are you a psychic? Can you see the future? Will I have kids?"

"No," he said.

"Ok, good. Will I get married?"

"I only see what I want to see," Kevin said.

"How do you know you want to see a zombie invasion? Maybe you're in denial about zombies? Maybe your denial is blocking the zombies." He shook his head. "It could happen, Kevin. It could happen."

Without my brother's input, I formulated a plan for the HKs. We would get the biggest, fuel-efficient car available. And if the only thing available was Kevin's Jetta, then so be it. We would need to be on foot, on the move. The zombies would be on the move, and since we weren't kids lost in Toys 'R Us, it would behoove us to keep moving, to make us harder targets for the zombies to find.

Once in the Jetta or other fuel-efficient SUV, we would raid the armory for weapons. Of course, we would need to try to grab some blunt instruments from the house first seeing as how we had no guns here. There could be zombies hiding in the armory and I am not going out like that. A windshield wiper may kill, but no zombie ever will...now starvation...that's a definite maybe also.

Anyway, we would get to the armory. If any zombies were present, they would get blasted to the skull compliments of the blunt instruments we confiscated from the house. I would continue striking them across the head until I was absolutely sure they were dead. If I had a gun, I'm employ the double-tap method that the military uses. Only, I could out the shot to the heart. Zombies only die from blunt-force trauma to the head or brain stem.

Once the armory was raided, we would hit the road to live the life a nomad. At some point, it might preferable to find a boat. If you're on a boat in the middle of ocean, the odds are good you're safe. The zombies don't ever seen to cross bodies of water. You could fish. If you were on a fresh water body of water, you're have water readily available. You'd need a grill to cook the fish on. And there'd be the occasionally trips to shore for kindling.

Trips to shore would need to be scouted, but the nice thing is that zombies always seem to be more heavily concentrated around areas with a bigger population. So, as long as we could get to the river, get a boat filled with gas, we would most likely be safe seeing as we'd get to heavily wooded areas of beach.

Of course, those areas of beach wouldn't be totally omitted from zombie presence. A sharp shooter might be useful, a skill I think I need to start working on...

Or maybe...I could just learn to sail a big Spanish galleon! Yes, yes! Learn to sail like a pirate! Live on the water like a pirate! Find a nice handsome pirate to save species with!

Oh, things are looking up already!

Now...I just need that damn zombie out break to happen!