Jake and I are bored. So bored, it's unreal. And what happens when we're bored? We get creative.
Halfway through French yesterday, Jake has this brilliant idea for a prank, and we've just set it up in the boys' loos.
"Oh, this is going to be hilarious!"
"Sshh! Somebody's coming!"
I look. It's Paul, resident asshat of the Lower Sixth. Jake and I grin at each other madly. We'd been meaning to get him back, ever since he replaced the mayonnaise with shampoo and Ron, our mayonnaise-loving acquaintance, had eaten a whole bunch before realising. Okay, it was funny at the time, but he'd had to go to hospital and get his stomach pumped, so we needed to get him back, if only for our stout friend's sake.
"He's going in!" Jake hisses. For a second, I think Paul hears him, because he turns around and looks up, but then he shrugs and pushes the door open.
Jake and I can hardly contain our excitement.
Boom goes the dynamite.
"Aurgh! What wizardry is this?"
At that moment, we can't help it any longer, and explode with laughter. Jake's nearly crying, and my face is hurting like hell from holding such a huge, shit-eating grin.
"You little PUNKS!" Paul screams, and then the door bursts open. It's worse than we imagined, and we erupt again into childish giggles, for there stands Paul, livid, purple with rage, even, covered in soap, tissue paper and Jake's cat's piss.
"I'm going to FUCKING KILL YOU!"
We look at each other, Jake and I, and unanimously decide to book it the hell out of there. Paul's not far behind us.
As we run through the halls, Paul's shoes, still slippery from the cat piss and soap, lose their grip and he goes skidding into a classroom door with a thud. He immediately springs back after us, screaming blue murder and a host of things I'd rather not mention. With all the commotion, the classroom doors are almost wrenched off their hinges as hundreds of pupils come racing out to see what's going on. Jake and I slap a hi-five and then speed through the main doors outside, before separating. Apart, he has less chance of catching us.
As luck would have it, the skies decide that Paul hasn't suffered enough, and it begins to rain. Jake and I are in our patented Quick Getaway Coats, which happen to be waterproof, but Paul is not. Not only is he soaked to the bone at this point, but the soap in his hair reacts, and pretty soon his entire head is engulfed in an effervescent pink mess.
"Gee, Paul," I yell back, after I notice he's decided to pursue me, probably because he thinks I am the mastermind behind this (to give him credit, I usually am. No, seriously. Jake and I sat down and worked out the percentage of our little escapades he had masterminded, and which I had, and it'd come up 53/47 in my favour), "I didn't think you could look any more ridiculous! Huh! I guess I was wrong!"
Probably not a smart move, because that spurs him on and he starts closing the gap. When he's almost caught up to me, I stop suddenly, and he skids past, straight into a massive flood-puddle. He's now well and truly drenched, whilst I am snuggly and dry in my awesome coat.
"Lee, you're a dead man! A DEAD MAN! You hear?"
"I hear ya, bro!" I yell back, as I run off in the other direction. I hear cheering, and notice the whole school has now broken away from lessons and has come to watch Jake and me make hell for Paul.
A few seconds later, I look back to see where Paul is, and notice he's not following me anymore. Curious, I look around, and then notice Jake streaking off towards the equipment sheds. Satisfied that Paul's given up on me, I hear cries of 'Ten on Paul!" and "You must be crazy! Jake and Lee are gonna kick his ass!" and tear after Jake and Paul before a fight starts (and one will, trust me. They invariably do in these situations).
Jake's almost at the sheds. Paul's grinning, because he's managed to herd him into a dead end.
"It's a trap!" I shout, doing my best Admiral Ackbar impression (which, when overheard, I later find out, gives me much improved bets from the Star Wars geeks).
He's too late to do anything about it, and Paul ignores me. Jake pushes open the door to the nearest shed, bolts inside, and slams it after him. Paul slows up, and I keep my distance. Paul's now laughing. He knows he's got Jake cornered. Jake's not strong enough to hold Paul out of the shed so, with a little effort, he forces his way inside. I hear a clattering, crashes, yells of pain and a lot of objects falling, so I run in after him.
Paul is lying in the middle of the shed, tangled up in a mini goal. He's got his hands round Jake's neck and is choking him, which I have to put a stop to. I grab the nearest object and attack him with it. Unfortunately, what I grab is a blown up penguin from a set of Penguin Bowls. I shrug. It'll do. Coming to Jake's rescue, I begin battering the now defenceless and hopelessly ensnared Paul with my makeshift weapon and, in surprise, he lets go of Jake. Jake gets out of reach quickly, before deciding that what I'm doing looks fun, grabbing another penguin and joining in. So there we are, for at least two minutes, beating Paul round the head with these blow-up penguins, laughing like madmen, until we finally decide he's had enough and turn around to leg it. Unfortunately, our luck seems to have run out, and, instead of an empty doorway, our path is blocked by Coach, easily the largest teacher at school. He grabs us by the collars and grins sadistically.
Jake and I got suspended for a week. Not surprising, really. Our mums weren't too pleased with us, and we both got grounded for life (it'll be forgotten in about two weeks, so I'll be planning our next great prank until then), but damn, it was worth it. If only to see the look on that great big dumbass's face when we beat him with the penguins. The downside is, now we're going to have to be on the lookout for Paul's retribution, and, although I have no idea what crazy shit he's going to pull, I know it's not going to be pretty.
Oh, well. We'll get him back later. Besides, we've got a deal with the bookies, and we get 50% of their profits, so I can't complain.
Ahh… sometimes, it just rocks being me. Bottom of Form
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