My Dad the Prankster, Part 1

Those of you who know my dad might think of him as rather serious and intimidating. I can see where you might get that impression, but you don't know the whole story.

Back in the day, when Dad was in college (in the early days of Columbia Christian College), he was a bit of a rascal. From the stories he tells, I'm under the impression that the reason his grades weren't particularly stellar was that he spent so much time pulling pranks on people that there was no time left to study. I'll try to make tales of his exploits a semi-regular feature, if only in the hope that stories of his mischief might inspire my readers to attempt to top his stunts. (As long as I'm not the target!)

This first one isn't so much a prank as a playful joke. But I find it hilarious, and I'm in charge here, so it counts.

One Friday afternoon, Dad and some of his friends were in the locker room making themselves presentable after basketball practice (or some other type of practice--Dad was quite the all-around athlete). There was a big banquet being held that night, so the conversation turned to who was escorting whom to the festivities. When they asked Dad, something out-of-character possessed him to cockily respond, "Well, nobody, but I could get a date if I wanted to." His friends naturally goaded him into trying to put his money where his mouth was.

So Dad finished combing his hair and went over to the girls dorm. He asked a girl who was passing through the lobby to go up and tell Marcie that he was waiting. (He happened to know that Marcie didn't have a date that night, and he had a cunning plan.) When Marcie came down, he said, "What? You're not ready yet?"


Marcie: "Ready for what?"


Dad: (acting all hurt) "Do you mean you FORGOT about going to the banquet with me tonight?"


Marcie: (shocked and confused) "Oh my goodness! I'm so, so sorry! I can't believe I forgot! I'll go get ready as quickly as I can!"


Dad: (evil grin)


As soon as Marcie was ready, they went to the banquet where Dad's friends saw him in attendance with the girl who would be the Homecoming Queen later that year. I'm sure they were all suitably impressed.


Of course, she gave him a bit of a beating when he dropped her off that night and he admitted that she hadn't actually forgotten anything. But she kept dating him for quite a while after that, so she must not have been too upset.


Hee! My dad rocks.

Reason #2

In my fledgling series enumerating the many ways I make Cascade College proud that I am their Valedictorian of the Class of 1997, I present Reason #2...

It was TLC Sunday during my sophomore year at Cascade. Our choir was scheduled to perform at the singing portion of the day's events. Since we didn't have uniforms yet, I needed to wear a black and white outfit to services so I would be ready to perform if I didn't get a chance to go home that afternoon. Being Frosts, we were all running late that morning, but we were just about to walk out the door when I noticed how wrinkled my shirt was. Since the iron was still on from my mom's rush to get ready, I figured I had three choices: leave the house looking like a duffel bag, take off the shirt and flash my family while I ironed, or iron the shirt without removing it.

Guess which one I chose.

Yeah.

Now guess where the scar is.

What makes it even more awesome is that bandaging the burn took much longer than it would have taken for me to take off the shirt, put something else on, and iron it properly. What makes it super-awesome is that we had the starting time wrong and we ended up being half an hour early. What makes it super-duper-awesome is that I actually told people the truth when they asked me what happened to my arm.

Yep. I'm a genius.

Reason #1

I have an idea for a new semi-regular post topic. Sort of like the old Top 8 lists, but this time I won't even attempt to post with any regularity.

I shall call it Reason #_____ Cascade College is Proud to Claim me as Their Valedictorian.

As you might guess, that's meant to be sarcastic.

I suppose I ought to post the first reason, so here we go. (If you've already heard this story, just pretend it's fresh and interesting.)

As you might know, I have a huge fear of public speaking. HUGE. Paralyzing, terrifying, rationality-eradicating. It is probably impossible to exaggerate the degree of my fear. This fact will be important later, so make a note.

During the last semester of my senior year, my English professor, who was also the Dean of Academics, congratulated me on my status as that year's Valedictorian. At first I was kind of flattered and proud, but then it hit me. I was going to have to give the Valedictory Address! I thought about running away to China and living as a monk, but I decided I couldn't live without cheese. (Plus, monks are usually male.) So I came up with a cunning plan.

I went to lovely Betty in the Registrar's office and asked her how bad my grades had to be that semester for me to still graduate, but not have to be the Valedictorian. After staring at me like my hair was on fire, she looked up a couple of files and told me it was mathematically impossible. I commenced freaking out. She somehow deciphered my crazed babbling and told me that if this whole thing was just about the Valedictory Address, I could simply ask someone else if they wanted to give the speech. I've never wanted to kiss a woman more than I did at that moment. I was pretty happy when my friend Anne agreed to give the speech, too. She did a great job, and I retained my health and my sanity (such as it was).

So, Reason #1 Cascade College is proud to have me as their Valedictorian: I tried to decimate my GPA in order to avoid becoming their Valedictorian.

You Know What Will Make Insomnia Worse?

Well, for me, it's when I give up on trying to fall asleep and decide to check my email and see a headline on the Yahoo home page that reads "Three Dead in Missouri Church Shooting." And I think, "Yikes! That's terrible! But what are the chances that it happened in the tiny little town of Neosho where my good friends Kael and Tonna and their sweet little Zaine live?"

And then I click on the link and the first word I see is "Neosho."

And then my heart falls into the pit of my stomach and I don't want to read the article because I don't want to see names I recognize.

And then I feel guilty for being relieved that three people I don't know got killed in their church building during worship services.

That's just messed up.