I loved Nanna. There was no doubt to it. Like most families, Nanna was the one person who it didn't matter what she said, it was usually funny as hell. Funnier still was the way she reacted to certain situations. For instance, let's say she was making cookies and an egg would fall on the floor. Nanna would look at the egg, point at it, and say, "You fucking bastard," like it was the egg's fault, or if she was making dinner and inadvertently knocked over the olive oil, she'd point at it and say, "You little prick." This, of course, would send me into a fit of laughter. She would always place her forefinger at her lips and "Shhhh" me before telling me to not say anything to Ma or Daddy about it. I never did. That was Nanna's and my secret.
As funny as that was, as funny as she was, Nanna had a dark side to her as well that manifested itself in the way of practical jokes. For instance, when I was eight, I had yet to see the movie
Independence Day
. Nanna told me to come watch TV with her. Unbeknownst to me, she had paused the DVD until I arrived, then pressed play. The scene came up where the aliens destroyed the White House. "Oh, my God!" she shouted. "Wesley, we're under attack by aliens!"
I remember looking at her and beginning to cry. "Come this way, Wesley. Nanna will protect you." She had me hide in my closet, then said, "Nanna has to make sure all the doors and windows are locked. Stay right here until I get back." An hour and a half later, and I was still waiting, and still crying. I heard a noise. Something had fallen. Footsteps then, and they were getting closer and closer to my closet. Finally, a metallic voice said, "Target has been located. Prepare for extermination."
My closet door flew open and I was looking at a hideous creature with claws that were moving back and forth. I screamed as loud as I could as I pushed myself into a corner. Nanna removed her mask as she laughed wildly. I, on the other hand, had pissed my pants. Oh, she thought it was hilarious. "It's okay, Wesley," she said between bouts of laughter. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."
That night for dinner she fixed me chicken strips and French fries to make up for the joke; however, I was still sulking. "I'm going to get you for this," I promised her.
"Oh, really?" she asked with a laugh. "Bring it on."
Halloween was just two months away. I told my best friend Carlos what Nanna had done, and asked him if he'd help me play a prank on her. He said sure, and asked what I had in mind. I told him, and he was excited to be a part of it.
A week before Halloween, Nanna took me to the store and bought me a Chewbacca outfit. One call to Carlos ensured his parents had bought him the same. The day of Halloween, while still at school, I said, "Okay, I want you to hide in Ms. Crowley's shrubs. When I go up to get my candy, I'll wait for the other kids to turn and walk away, then I'll trade places with you. You know what to do next, right?"
"I got this,
amigo
," Carlos assured me, and sure enough, that is how things went. I did hit a bit of a snag, though.
"Weren't you already here?" Ms. Crowley asked me.
"No, ma'am," I answered as I took my mask off. "Carlos Ramirez and I have the same outfit this year, Ms. Crowley."
"You wouldn't lie to me to get more candy, would you?"
"You're my Sunday School teacher, Ms. Crowley. I wouldn't lie to you. I promise."
"Well then, here's an extra piece of candy for being honest," she said with a smile.
I returned my mask to its proper place, and as planned, when the other kids turned to leave, I jumped in the shrubs while Carlos took my place. I followed Carlos for about four houses, then Carlos removed his mask and said, "Lady, can I go home now or are you going to kidnap me? Stranger Danger!"
"Oh, my goodness!" Nanna said as she looked around. "Oh, my Lord! Where's my grandson?" She looked across the street to see me laughing my ass off on the Peterman's lawn. She marched across the street and said, "You little—" but she stopped short as I continued to laugh. She started laughing as well, then said, "Okay, okay. You got me."
"That'll teach you to play jokes on me," I told her, but my smile soon faded when she said,
"Oh no, dear Wesley. That teaches me to play even bigger and better jokes." I stared at her wide-eyed. She cackled like a witch. She took my hand and said, "Come on. You still have a lot of trick-or-treating to do."
She played little pranks on me throughout the years, like the monocular that, when you look through it, it puts a black ring around you eye, or the "stick of gum" that's really a mouse trap thing that snaps your finger when you take it. She even got me with a whoopee cushion several times, but I knew that these were building to something bigger. I just didn't know what.
The next really big prank came when I was sixteen. Nanna was chopping onions to add to the giblet gravy on Thanksgiving Day as I watched TV in the living room; Ma and Daddy were putting up the Christmas Tree. I was really into the latest
Dragonball Z
episode when all of a sudden, I heard Nanna yell. I raced to the kitchen to find her holding the blood-soaked nub of her right index finger while on the cutting board was the remainder of it covered in blood.
"Oh ... Oh Wesley. I'm going to pass out." Ma and Daddy arrived just as she slid down a wall. I was at Nanna's side trying to get her to wake up. Ma screamed as she ran to join us.
Daddy looked at the cutting board and said, "Okay, Willa. You got them." I looked up and saw him lick the blood from the finger, only it was ketchup and the finger was rubber.
"Darn tootin' I did," Nanna said as she sat up. "Especially this one here." She tousled my hair. "Hope I didn't scare you
too
badly, Wesley." She looked between my legs. "Nope. Still dry."
"You're going to get it," I told her, "and when you do, it ain't gonna be pretty."
"Stop it. Both of you," Ma said. "No more pranks in this house. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," I answered.
"Whatever you say," Nanna replied.
Being sixteen, I was old enough to start donating blood. We had a blood drive upcoming on February first at school, and while there, the perfect prank hit me. Of course, I would once again need the help of Carlos, and when I explained why, he was only too happy to comply.
When I got home the day of the blood drive, I proudly showed off the bandage where they drew the blood, and my free T-shirt that read 'O-Positive-ly a Blood Donor.' Everyone congratulated me on caring enough to help as I could.
Ma and Daddy had planned a romantic getaway for Valentine's Day, which fell on a Friday. They would be gone all weekend, so it was the perfect time to put my prank into motion. First, Carlos had created a really nice American Red Cross letterhead on his computer. Second, after several hours of wording it just right, he and I came up with the perfect letter. It read:
Mr. Wesley Gavin Johnson
re: Blood Donation
Dear Mr. Johnson
,
We regret to inform you that as part of our standard testing procedures, your blood has been deemed unsuitable for use. It has been determined that you are a carrier of the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV), the virus that ultimately leads to AIDS. Your name has been entered into our databank, and you are urged to seek professional help immediately
.
Alec Pilsbury
Department Head
Vermont American Red Cross Headquarters
"Oh, man. She's going to have a litter of kittens when she finds this," Carlos said.
"Yeah, but when she finds me hanging from a noose, she'll be having a whole herd of cows," I told him. I explained what I wanted to do, and he helped me fashion a harness that would make it look like I had hanged myself.
We got Carlos's mother in on the prank as well. We had her call Nanna and say she was from the library and that Nanna had a book that was three weeks overdue and she needed to go there immediately to settle the matter. When Nanna left, Carlos and I fixed the harness to my back, then I put my shirt on. Then we looped a rope around my neck, but the real rope was affixed to the harness and was tied to a rafter on the back porch. Carlos left a folded note on the patio table, then ripped open the faux envelope from the Red Cross and displayed the letter on the counter. After that, he went home and awaited my call.
Nanna returned about thirty minutes later, and from my spot on the back porch I could just make out her stopping at the counter and reading the letter. There was a high yelp of shock, followed by Nanna going through the house, screaming my name as she looked for me. I had closed my eyes and pretended to be dead. She finally made her way to the back porch and screamed as she saw me hanging there. She began to cry as she said, "No, no. Wesley, please, no." She stopped, grabbed the folded note that I had written "To my dear family" on, and when she opened it, she screamed as the words GOTCHA! jumped out at her in bold, green letters.
"You little son-of-a-prick!" she screamed at me, then punched me in the nuts. It hurt so bad, but I was laughing so hard that I didn't really register the pain.
"Now you'll think twice before cutting your finger off, won't you?"
She laughed as she said, "Good luck getting yourself down."
I called Carlos and was down in fifteen minutes.
Nanna and I went back and forth after that, trying to out-do each other with little pranks. Some were successful, but most weren't. In the back of my mind, I knew she was building to something big, and I honestly didn't know how I was going to counter it.
After I graduated high school, Ma and Daddy announced that they were going on a two-year project with Greenpeace to third-world countries to do their part in spreading democracy and helping the environment. I had applied to and was accepted at The University of Vermont-Waterbury, which meant that I would be moving from our home in Woodstock as a seventy-one-mile daily commute was too much to ask of anyone. For all intents and purposes, Nanna was going to be living alone for the next couple of years.
Oh, yes. I promised both Nanna and my parents that I would drive back home every weekend and holiday, and I did. On one particular weekend, I was hanging out with Carlos. We talked about this and that, then we got on the subject of practical jokes. I told him that Nanna hadn't played one on me in a while, and it was hard for me to play one on her when I lived so far away. "Not necessarily," he told me, and then began to tell me of a really good one I could play on Nanna, "because you always retaliate. You need to strike first this time." I agreed, so we set his plan into motion.
Carlos had an aunt who worked in the Governor's office, and since he was her favorite nephew, she pretty much catered to his requests. He told her that he wanted her to type something on the Governor's stationery. He told her it was for a prank, and when she heard it, she was more than willing to play along.
Two weeks later, Nanna called me, frantic and exasperated. "Oh, Wesley. Oh, Wesley. What am I going to do?"
"What's wrong, Nanna?"
"I just received a letter from the Governor, Wesley.
The Governor
! Oh, it's terrible, Wesley. So, so terrible."
"Calm down and read it to me, Nanna." She was on the verge of tears. It was all I could do to keep from laughing right then and there.
