The Joke

[meatbag]

This is a bit longer of a story so I broke it up for YOU guys. Part A (The Joking History):

My younger brother paced back and forth screaming and yelling at me what an a$$hole I was! How he was going to save up his toenail clippings for a whole year and hide them in my food, how he would get his wife to make a cake of Ex-Lax and feed it to me! Oh, he was going to get me back if it took him a lifetime. He yelled and yelled, bug eyed, arms flailing the whole time. I was hiding in a manly fashion behind an old Honda 400 streetbike in the shop. Everyone else had disappeared or just run away from fear of flying tools and sharp objects. The cowards.

Before all this happened, pranks were always quite mild. This last joke was the next level.
Long before, ever since I was little, I've played practical jokes on my brothers. Most were just harmless brother stuff like duct taping my littlest brother and leaving him on our neighbours low garage roof for a few hours, or giving my other younger brother some handcuffs for X-mas, only I would sneak into his room early, handcuff his arm to his bed and hang the key from the ceiling on a string juuuust out of reach. Heh, heh, heh.
When the littlest brother would irritate me I would just throw him in the big spruce tree in the front yard.

I remember the water fight in the house one time after my parents went away for a few days, (It wasn't a joke but it sure was fun). Glasses of water turned to buckets, then the hoses came out, then the breaking of my moms ornament lamp...which I crazy glued back together. All was good until she turned it on one night! I can still see her, a tiny little woman, with mom hair, pupils dilated and eyes wide-totally enraged waving the "wooden beating spoon"! I can still feel the beating from THAT one when she broke that long wooden beating spoon on my ass! I got blamed for that breaking too. Sheesh.

I once sprayed pledge on the floors upstairs so I could run and slide easier down the hallway. It was fun...for a while. That beating really, really hurt. Thats the way it was back then. Don't mess with the grown ups, you'll pay! Somehow I survived it all.
Anyways we got up to some crazy stuff, all in the name of fun.
I'm just giving some background of the antics of the house. If anything, it was never really boring. Sometimes I would sabotage the kitchen by upturning the pointy plastic nub mats, gluing the cigarettes together, elastics around the water sprayer etc... X-mas time was special for me because I could let all my creative juices flow. I would multi super package items, have decoys, ultra tape them up, make people run all over the place(while silently chuckling quietly to myself relaxing in a comfy chair).

I remember one time I taped up a big cardboard box filled with styro popcorn packing, the decoy. It had a note leading to another hidden note, which led to another big box outside in the snow. Inside this other box was more popcorn and another nailed together wood box(I was nice and put a saw in the box as well). After sawing, which was pretty easy, it led to the final present under the tree in normal wrapping! I know i enjoyed it!

End of part A.

 

[meatbag]

Part B (The Bike Training):

Okay, well all this joking was pretty normal. My second youngest brother wanted to get his bike license. Bike license hey? Wellll, Come into my office. I had a course set up for him in the alley, at the lake, in the mud, sand...everything. All to be ridden on various minibikes I had at the time. I had him ride all over in all conditions so he would wipe out in the dirt, making the mistakes THERE instead of the pavement. Pavement hurts. I just tried to make him a more aware streetbiker.
I had found a nice used Honda 400, early 80's model for sale. It needed some carb work, tires, and a overall cleanup. I did all the work. He rode that bike, got his license and enjoyed the freedom it gave him. The big smile of just riding out in the wind.

The next summer, he wanted to upgrade so he asked me to sell it for him at the shop. I brought it in, gave it a once over, a bit of TLC, and put it up for sale. Well, it sold in less than a day for decent money.
The bike was to stay at the shop for a few days till the new owner could get it home.
I had done everything on this bike. Bought it, fixed it, now I had just sold it.
The owner of the shop, my boss and good friend did know my brother a bit from me working there. He figured we could play a joke on him. I agreed feeling a little bitter for doing ALL the work on the bike. He deserved it right?
All this was thought up quickly and executed before we even had time to think it through.

My boss phoned up my brother and told him a test rider had taken the bike out and had wiped it out badly. The rider was hurt and the bike was wrecked. He had better get his ass down to the shop quick!
Well, my brother, who lived about 40 minutes away hopped in his big gas guzzling suburban and floored it all the way to the shop! He came in all seriously stressed and pale, having had to dodge the cops because he was driving like a madman. As soon as my brother came inside the shop, the reality of what we had done to the poor guy hit everyone. They, the pimply faced, crackly voiced shop guys all disappeared. Before they ran away like cowards of course(the bastards), they told him I was in the back, in my bay with the bike.

He ran to the back yelling my name, rounded the corner expecting who knows what, and came in to...well, nothing...he just stood there looking at the bike, which was sitting there all shiny, then at me. Back and forth. Momentarily confused, he had a deer in the headlights look. I used that moment to strategically hide in a manly fashion(of course) behind the Honda. An eternally long few seconds passed. The bike was sitting on the stand all pretty, everything was calm. A machine in the distance made a little "hissing" noise. I heard a board creak, probably one of the shop cowards sneaking away damn them! Still stunned, he asked what happened to the bike and the test rider?


End of Part B

 

[meatbag]

Part C (The Joke)

I looked at the ground, looked back up with my eyes only, then back at the ground. there was a little bolt in the dust. I kicked it a couple times delaying, coughed a couple of times, trying to buy time. I was hoping he would relax a bit but the pressure cooker, his head, was pressure cooking! I then proceeded to tell him there was no crash or even a test rider...then I hid even farther behind the bike!
I thought the top of his head was going to pop off (like how we used to do to the dandelions), His face went from "I'm a dead zombie pale" to cinnamon harts/Honda red instantly! I remember thinking (while I was hiding in a manly fashion) he's going to pop one of those little blood vessels that were throbbing on his forehead and things might get messy. I scanned over to the area where the first aid should be, but there was only a cleaner looking square on the wall where it had once resided.

The acute eye watering verbal assault started. He made up names I've never even heard of for insults. Huh? He must have learned new insults from some new Klassy friends. He paced the other side of the room ranting. He was still pretty flustered but he slowly started to calm down with just the odd curse of my name about sexual acts with inanimate objects and animals. Quite an impressive vocabulary bombardment really.

He kept stomping his big boots across the floor back and forth but his colour was changing, the blood was draining and he was morphing back to his normal zombie pale-ish hue. He probably would have passed out having all that blood leave the rest of his body for so long if he kept his rage up. It's amazing really, isn't it? Good thing this wasn't a gun shop, I'd be small town beef jerky sticks pretty quick!

Anyways, I stood up smiling. "Surprise...Hey, it's Just a joke, get it? Ha, ha...ha..." and threw him an envelope full of cash from the sale. He fell silent. Blank stare. It was really strange as the quiet settled in the shop again. Time seemed to stand still and I started hearing more strange noises in far away parts of the building. The shop cowards slinking back no doubt.
The seconds ticked away, then he muttered a few half words, "but...", "how?...", "so quick...?". I didn't say anything. wisely, I let the cash talk. He then started counting the money and soon was smiling calling me a jerk and an ass, many, many times. The danger had passed. That was a close one!

Of course, all the shop cowards came out of the woodwork and we all had a good laugh. Truth is, I almost lost my damn life because of a joke done on a whim.
One thing he said always stuck with me. After hanging out and having a beer, talking with the guys, he said "wow, that was easy, I should buy and sell more bikes". My eyes popped open wide! What a bastard! Of course it's easy when you don't do any of the work and reap ALL the rewards!

He never did save up all his nail clippings and feed them to me...that I'm aware of!

End.

 

[meatbag]

So now I don't want to hear whining from all you gorillas about it being too long...and I put in lots of pictures...

 

[somethingnuw]

So now I don't want to hear whining from all you gorillas about it being too long...and I put in lots of pictures...

meatbag... always entertaining... you should go to thumper talk and read a 15 year old`s story... under general dirtbike discussion look up the thread ``please read my story`` it was awesome... you guys are cut from the same mold

 

[Bnorth]

meatbag... always entertaining... you should go to thumper talk and read a 15 year old`s story... under general dirtbike discussion look up the thread ``please read my story`` it was awesome... you guys are cut from the same mold

Link?

 

[john s]

X2


Sent from my iPhone while wishing the snow was gone so I can go dirt biking.

 

[Shadam]

quite the read ...

you should ...

type elsewhere, or stop tormenting your brothers eh ...

 

[meatbag]

Lol, You DO realize, on the forum, on the net, using a device that has lots of fancy buttons, If you don't like it, you REALLY, really don't have to read it. It's true! You can just move on...press a button. Pretty simple Willy.
Maybe, just maybe, you should put me on your ignore list...please! I certainly wouldn't want to torment you. Lol.

quite the read ...

you should ...

type elsewhere, or stop tormenting your brothers eh ...