A/N: This is a very funny story-actually a summary-about the pranks I played on people at school during the last days. I'd be pleased if you reviewed this...A big THANK YOU to all the web-pages on school pranks I discovered; I used the trick with the glue and the pot of Vaseline.

It was during the break between the two lessons of history. Chuckling naughtily, I thought of what I had read on an interesting web-page during my surfing the internet...put Vaseline on the door-handles...I slyly took out a piece of cardboard, scooped out an abundant helping of Vaseline and polished the door-handle with it. One of my classmates soon came back and placed his hand on the latch... I tried not to erupt into mad gales of laughter; because this is what he said (translated from Swiss-German-dialect into English I live in Switzerland, but my mother-tongue is English):

"GOD DAMMIT! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS???!" he screeched, glaring at his hand and turning his scathing gaze to the offending door-handle. He burst inside the room. I waited for the door to close, then I pushed it open and stepped inside myself, staring at my hand in well-simulated amazement.

"I ALSO GOT THAT GREASY STUFF!" my classmate squeaked at me. It was very difficult to cling to my false astonishment as I washed my hands, too. In the meantime the angry boy was giving the latch a good swipe with a paper napkin. After history came Latin, during which we were allowed to work outside the schoolroom. That is when I went inside the girls' toilet and spread the stuff on a toilet-seat with some paper. After Latin we had the twenty-minutes-break. I trotted off to the toilet and planted myself in the cubicle next to the one with the manipulated toilet-seat. Someone entered it. The door shut. Sounds of the victim sitting down on the toilet-seat. Then:

"What kind of shit is this on the seat?"

There was a brief silence. Then the door was torn open and the occupant burst out. I bent my body like a reed in the wind as explosions of silent laughter shook me. I left the cubicle for the next step of my little joke. I looked around cautiously. The corridor was empty; no one was coming down the stairs. I reached into my right pocket and pulled out the pot of Vaseline, trying hard not to giggle. From my other pocket I extracted the small piece of cardboard; I scraped off the greasy stuff with it and applied a generous portion to the door-handle. I scuttled off and did the same thing with the other doors. Ground floor finished. I dashed up the stairs to the first floor, fulfilled my task over there and, after completing my mission successfully on the second floor, rushed down to the ground floor and walked into my schoolroom innocently, covering the bulge the Vaseline-jar made in my pocket with my Latin-exercise-book.

Then, after Latin, I hurried to the room where I had one lesson of English after the break (we have to switch schoolrooms according to the lessons). I waited patiently for the bell to ring. It did so after a few minutes. The English-teacher walked up to the door, smiling a casual greeting at us. He unlocked the door. I sucked in my breath softly. Then he placed his hand upon the latch and pushed the door open. He entered the room and stared at his hand. I managed to make it to my desk without laughing. The teacher sighed and looked very irritated.

"Some joker has been applying this stuff to all the latches...this is really disgusting!" he said crossly.

The boy who had opened the door in history looked up.

"There was more of that stuff on the door-handle of the history-room!" he exclaimed.

"Sticky...and greasy", the teacher remarked. He held his hand to his nose.

"No smell", he muttered and strode up to the sink.

In the afternoon, I reapplied the Vaseline to a few door-handles on the ground floorbefore dumping the pot of the stuff inside my locker. I made my way to the room where we have our German-lessons. Two boys were already there-one was engrossed in reading a book-last minute preparation for his homework-and the other was having a good nap. He had removed his shoes and placed them next to him. I scowled. This guy had pinched several girls' bottoms a few weeks ago. I'm afraid to say that my backside was also maltreated. I made up an evil little prank in three seconds as I stared at his shoes. Then I opened my rucksack and took out a tiny tube of glue from my pencil-case. I had taken it along in order to glue a few books of my classmates to the desks; but now I was going to use it for something entirely different. I silently sat down next to the sleeping boy. The other guy was still reading his book. With a lightning-like motion I pushed one shoe aside, squeezed out a fat drop of glue on the ground and, gingerly lifting up the rather grubby (and smelly, I'm afraid...) shoe, I placed it with its heel on the blob of glue. Now this glue is extremely powerful. It dries in about seven seconds and then it's very, very, very difficult to "unstick" the object. I slipped back the tube in my case. None of my movements had been observed. Soon the bell rang, and the teacher came to open the door. She stared at her fingers. Then she marched off to the sink to wash her hands, asking us what kind of stuff had been smeared onto the latch. In the meantime the dozing boy had awoken from his nap and was now reaching for his shoes. I watched. He gripped the glued-up shoe. Only the front part budged-the heel didn't. He frowned and tugged at it. There was a squealing sound, but the glue held on nicely. The guy's eyes were popping. He let go and had a sip of coke. Then he grasped his shoe with both hands. There's was a loud POP! as the shoe, released from the glue, shot upwards. Puzzled, its owner stared at the sole while I went into a long coughing spasm.

The next trick took place within the walls of the schoolroom. I groped about in my pockets and I drew out a tiny flask of very strong perfume. Sticking my hands beneath the table, I commenced spreading blasts of sweet perfume in the air. Soon people were shifting uneasily, waving their hands in front of their noses and darting accusing glances at the teacher, who wrinkled her nose in disgust. However, when she noticed the class staring at her in surprise, she turned pink with embarrassment. I sprayed puffs of perfume until the flask was empty. I slipped it back into my useful pocket. The stench was sickening. It was quite a hot day, and some people were quick to come up with the theory that the teacher was sweating so much that she was sweating all her perfume away, too. However, the teacher wasnot sweating at all, so the theory fell flat.

The next day I stuck papers with crude messages on the doors of the girls' and boys' toilets. The writing was highly enhanced by a few cartoon-effects I had added with the help of my ever-faithful computer. After completing this rather risky mission-it was difficult to avoid being seen-I went into the girls' bathroom. I grabbed a spare roll of toilet paper and draped it in elegant garlands over the cubicles and sinks. After that, I stood back to admire my work. It really looked...well...pretty stunning. I walked back to my schoolroom. My pranks were not yet over. The very same guy who had touched the Vaseline in the break between last day's history-lessons was my victim. He's got a passion for coke. During the break he bought his usual bottle and opened it. Then he went to fetch a paper-towel from the sink. I quickly seized the opportunity and broke off an edge of my cereal-bar and let it fall into the brown, sizzling liquid. Innocently, I turned away, nibbling at my bar. My victim put the bottle to his lips and took a good pull at it. His eyes widened. He set down the bottle and rolled the liquid around in his mouth. It looked exceedingly comical. Then, much to my amusement and everyone else's (the teacher was also present, by the way...) astonishment, he spat it out. Brown drops landed on the floor.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS...? WHAT...?" he shouted, brandishing the bottle. It was too much for me. I sauntered out of the room and collapsed against the wall, my sides shaking with laughter. I went outside to suck in some fresh air. After returning to the schoolroom, I casually asked the poor guy why he had spat out his coke.

"There was a lump of sugar in it...I think that's what it was...in any case, I've exchanged the bottle for another one-" here he unscrewed the cap of a new bottle-"and returned the other." He sat down at his desk, grumbling about the mistakes which occur during the production-process of a product. I quickly payed the girls' toilets a visit. I was lucky enough to meet two very astonished girls inside, staring at the decorations I had done, their jaws reaching till their toes.

I must add that everyone was quite confused by the obscene messages stuck to the toilet-doors. Several people either giggled in amused disgust or shook their heads in complete scorn.

I am at home now and I'm hatching out some more pranks...I've never played tricks before, so, now that I've only just started, no one has the slightest notion who the culprit is...