Photo credit: The Lady
My Real Memoir: Confessions of an Eight-Year-Old Prankster
One of the advantages of living on a busy street (ours was the main route through the neighborhood) is that there’s a never-ending supply of drivers in need of something to liven up their day. Like, say, being pranked by an eight-year-old.
Our little SoCal suburb was still wet with afterbirth. But it had been built on the site of an old Spanish land-grant. So, even though our spray-stuccoed ranch home was new, the olive tree in our front yard had probably been planted by Zorro himself. The tree produced big purple olives, which were crunchy and bitter. But…
Not long after we moved in, Jeff-and-Rory and I discovered that if you squeezed them enough, they turned into juice-balloons! And even after a light toss they would produce a spectacular violet explosion upon hitting, say, a car window. I know, you’re thinking, “Neato!” Right? Well, so did we!
So We Started Hiding in the Bushes…
…and lobbing our little homemade grenades at passing cars. When one hit home, there would be a big, purple splat, and the car would screech to a halt. Then the driver would leap out, and yell, “You %&$@)*#?-ing kids!”
We’d just reached the end of a gleefully misbehaving week, when my mom opened the front door, turned into June Cleaver, and shouted, “Come in and wash up for dinner!” Then she saw what we were doing. There must have been some hint of moral conviction in my pre-manly breast, for when she welcomed me in, whispering, “Wait ’til your father gets home!” I thought, Why didn’t she call Rory in instead? Rory had opted not to throw olives (not because he was the perfect child, but because he had a Charles Dickens-ishly cruel stepfather).
But then, it struck me, “She didn’t call Rory in because she’s my mom, not his. And nothing, even the fact that I’d committed heinous crimes, could change that. Interestingly, this realization didn’t result in a torrent of bad behavior. In fact, it had the opposite effect. I did other wicked things, of course, but I never threw olives at cars again. On some subliminal level, it seems, I realized that living with Mommandad was a gift. And it made me want to do better, not worse. (Years later, recalling that moment would result in a rather significant adult ephiphany.)
Of course, there’d still be hell to pay when Dad got home.
Dad Spanked Me
But not very hard (he was no Uncle Larry). Plus, he was trying not to grin the whole time. A cleft would eventually open between us. But at that moment, I felt like Dad got me, even identified with me. Especially when, after explaining the dangers of causing a mini-carmageddon, he said, “There are harmless pranks, you know.” Then he told me about how when he was a kid, they’d tie a length of fishing line to a wallet, stick a dollar bill half-way out of it, and place it in the middle of the street. At dinner, Dad furtively slipped me an old wallet he wasn’t using.
The Wallet Trick was way better than Olive Grenades! We’d watch drivers slow down, and occasionally get out and reach for the wallet. Then we’d slowly pull it away. Some would actually follow it before realizing what was happening, and sheepishly hurry back to their car. One guy, stomped on the wallet, took the money, and yelled, “You lose!” But another guy laughed, shouted, “You got me!” and threw down a $10 bill!
Which I proudly showed Dad that evening.
To read My Real Memoir from the start, click here. To read the next episode, click here.
😂😂😂😂😂
And apparently you still play pranks. I recall a comment I made on one of your post a while back. I meant to make a note of the post title, but forgot.
Now I know that experiences are similar, and words expressed are also similar. But to be exactly the same–impossible when not in the company with the person.
When I read the comment I post was exactly as mine, word for word. I laughed, even said out loud, Whoever this person is, did not even give credit by putting a quotation mark to show the comment was copied.
If it wasn’t you, and the person did not copy my comment, then wow. 🙂
Hello. Sorry, I’m afraid I don’t know who this is or what comment you’re referring to.
I too can’t leave LIKES or COMMENTS on your site- Isigned in and on line with CHAT right now about it,
Sorry to hear that.
We had the same kind of fun. In summer, we climbed up on top of the local cleaner’s flat top roof with tomatoes. We were like snipers in that we were well hidden and could lob a tomato while lying on our backs. The same result: Screeching tires, bad words, until one time the police showed up. Lucky for us, our exit was out of sight, so we were able to make it to the vacant lot where we hid the remaining tomatoes and then headed for our homes.
And thus began John W. Howell’s life of crime. ;>)
I love this post. My kids would play Apple bowling or we would roll apples out in the street and of a car ran over. It you would get a certain amount of points.
I remember doing similar stunts as in your post as a kid and the sheer terror of running from an adult. I didn’t realize at the time they won venture too far from their cars.
;>)
I used to chuck cherry tomatoes at neighbo neighbors I disliked as a kid 😆
😲
In my neighborhood, we’d have crab apple fights. The little green apples would be everywhere. That was a clever prank your dad taught you. 🙂
;>)
Charming confessions. I would tell you some of my stories….. but….. I guess I was just a good little boy!!,,,, Oh…. but there was the time that I………………….
;>)
Mitch, you had some wise parents. Mom loved you but she would threaten to have dad deal with your mischief. What a great trick to put money in the wallet and have the person, try to get it. Much more fun that olive grenades and you even got some money out of it. You were occupied and didn’t get into serious trouble. Your dad probably really enjoyed your antics.
It’s one of my favorite kid-dad moments.
👍
“Carmageddon,” that’s a good one!
;>)
This reads like a scene from a coming-of-age movie. Funny on the surface, but actually about love, affection, accountability, and growing up.
Thanks for sharing this gem, Mitch.
My pleasure, and thank you, Rakesh.
You were too much fun Mitch 🤣🤣
;>)
I take it the olives were because of Oliver Twist?
;>)
Oh the joys of childhood antics! I had a hard time keeping the smile off my face many times watching my youngest! She could talk her friends into the most hilarious circumstances!
;>)
I swear we are twins separated at birth, though I am the handsome one!😂
When I was about six or seven, the evil boy who lived two doors up from me invited me to another neighbor’s home up the street (pretty countrified, and not city at all) where he decided it would be cool to throw the loose sand along the side of our road at the few passing cars!! Not being the brightest bulb in the tool shed (just the handsomest😉) I joined in scattering sand on the unsuspecting travelers from the bushes by the edge of the road. Several braked or at least slowed down, till one guy actually stopped and got out of his car! We ran like crazy, but he turned his car around in a zip and followed us home. He reported to our Mothers who did not wait for Dad’s to get home! One of the rare whippin’s I got, because Jimmy and I did not hang out that much. Until he tried smoking first which prevented me from ever trying it!
Good riddance, Jimmy! He’s probably a professional hit-man now. ;>)
Speaking of “Leave It to Beaver”–your story could be the plot of a 50’s/60’s family sitcom. Except I can’t picture Jim Anderson or Ward Cleaver suggesting the wallet trick. Maybe Tool Time Tim Taylor, although he came along much later. Your dad was ahead of his time!
;>)
There’s a limerick in there somewhere, making use of the rhyming words “pranking” and “spanking”….
There was a young blighter named Teemley
Whose conduct was crude and unseemly;
His mischievous pranking
Earned him a sound spanking;
His manners improved then, extremely.
Very good! 😂
Hilarious, BoB. First time I’ve been the topic of a limerick!
Hahahah hilarious stuff! A little bit of harmless fun surely can’t be bad in everyone’s life! Thanks for sharing! 😀
My pleasure, Lashaan!
Haha!
Love this! 😃
🧡
Oh my goodness… We had an abandoned olive grove near where I grew up. When the olives started falling off the trees, it was hard to resist throwing them at each other. From experience… it was like getting hit with the exploding dye packet after robbing a bank.
;>)!!
Hilarious 😂, what a great memory and a great dad too
Thank you! (May I ask your name?)
Lupe, pleased to meet you.
Likewise, Lupe!
I’m still laughing😂
Reminds me of when my son was in elementary school. When he came home from school one day, my daughter was playing with a friend he hadn’t met, and he asked my wife, “Who’s the alien?” My wife was horrified, but when she told me about it later, I laughed, and she was not happy! I agreed to talk to our son about it, but it was hard to do it with a straight face!
;>)
Great story, Mitch … but I’m left feeling so sorry about the “cleft” ….❤️🩹
Thank you, Renee, and I appreciate your empathy. It’s a cleft many kids and their parents face.
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