by Bob'n Around
Invisible matters of the mind turned real into the written word.
|It started out as a practical joke. Salt in the sugar dispenser made for a bitter smile and coffee thrown on Elmer Turnberry’s lap. “Not funny.”
More than liquid was spilled in the next joke iteration. Things escalated, got more interesting, increasing the anty. The two friends hadn’t spoken for days. “Forgive me?” Elmer Turnberry patted John Anderson’s shoulder, leaving a ‘kick me’ sign on his back.
“Sure, shake on it,” John Anderson offered a palm. As two hands were squeezed together, the electric shocker did its work, sending numbing messages up Elmer Turnberry’s arm. “You look stunning today,” John Anderson smirked.
Things got more creative. The stripper sent over to Elmer’s front door to wish him a happy birthday was greeted in mid act by his wife coming to investigate her husband’s whistles and low pitched moans. Elmer was caught busily trying to push clothes back on in strategic places. Entirely misinterpreted, he was shut and locked outside with his bride demanding divorce.
Now homeless, he had only one thought, seek revenge. The stripper felt sorry for what happened and agreed to help Elmer get even. “That’s John’s house, do your thing.”
A glint of devilish fun lit up her eyes as she pounded on John’s door. She threw herself at him when it opened, pushing him inside fumbling for balance. The two crashed together on the front room floor. “I couldn’t wait.” The stripper began doing her thing.
Clothes flew everywhere, including over the kitchen knife John’s honey was preparing their next meal with. “How could you? So this is what you’ve been doing late at work.”
The blonde bombshell snagged John’s coat as she left, putting it on to cover her jiggling breasts. “You’re married?” not staying to see what happened next. She got the cash in the wallet found in a pockett. Elmer used the stolen I.D. for cash advances on credit cards, funding his stay at the hotel Ritz.
While the stripper bled Elmer of his stolen gain, John bled his way to the hospital, no longer welcome at home. He got patched up with a stiff medical bill but couldn’t patch things up with his wife. “This is war.”
Bets were taken at work, lost and won as the two became more brazen. Employees took sides. People found leaking pens spoiling signatures on important contracts. Home brought lunch sacks held sandwiches held newly created dried dog do-do in the shape of hotdogs replaced in their buns. “Enough,” shouted the office manager, finding his meeting notes superglued to his desk.
Elmer and John found themselves kicked out on their rears, wrestling and tearing at each other along the way. The police were called. Baton’s, mace and neck locks had employees leaning out office windows laughing up a storm.
The decision to join forces was a slow one. Neither was able to make bail. Working in a chain gang under a hundred and ten hot sun and the threat of being buggered by cell mates brought the two together with homemade shives and secret practical jokes playing prisoners against each other.
John’s foot accidentally on purpose tripped the next leg in the shower. The naked body and hands associated with the foot grabbed hold of what he shouldn’t have touched. The ripple effect in the men’s massed bathroom left gore on the walls. Last men standing and innocently explaining the riot to guards was John reinforced by Elmer.
They had gotten the last laugh which kept them going until they got out on good behavior. “Those incarcerated perverts are trying to kill us.” John pushed Elmer as a speeding car careened, nearly hitting them while splashing a puddle of mud into their eyes.
“No, joke.That wasn’t funny.”
“Well, we are wet behind the ears. Got an idea?”
Word had gotten out that these two jokers were killers at making accidents happen. “You’s got yourselves jobs whether you want them or not, get it?” The local mob boss smirked. “You’s making me laugh already.” Jos Brash barely had to twist their fingers, sending off a couple cut off at the knuckles to send a message back to the joint.
Fingerprints were matched. Guards chuckled, prisoners settled down back into the monotony of long days until some new joker offered up something interesting. Now paid assassins on a short leash, John and Elmer lived for the moment when they could play a practical joke on their new master.
“Hah. He got his just desserts.” Joe Brash hadn’t died laughing. Strychnine laced favorite edibles had done the trick. John and Elmer were now crime bosses themselves. The rivalry keeps them both on their toes.
They both have their court jesters, making fools of themselves eating the first bites of whatever serves for food. They’re the ones opening the surprise presents that bomb when opened. They give their all to their new found short lived craft. “It keeps underlings watching their backs instead of watching how to unthrone kings,” Elmer Turnberry said.
John Anderson had to agree. “Not very sporting but in this game of chance it’s the joker gone wild who wins.”
It is funny what fate laughs at..The Grim Reaper is black humored. It is the latest rage. There is a knock-knock joke planned that will be very appealing when John and Elmer knock heads together slipping on a well placed banana left over from one of their jester’s lunch.
Food for thought and a laugh a minute depending on your position on practical jokes.
Good to remember if you’re in the mood for trying one, hidden behind a snicker or sneezed guffaw landing on some well deserving victim of your own.