a prank - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
"A few pranks are just what this old dump needs," thought Ben, letting his mind wander to all the things he could do to upset the staff. Mrs Carter the secretary loved her coffee, perhaps a small addition of lemon juice would sour her mood further. Mr Pinks the home manager was more affectionate to his motorbike than any living creature; a few of the boys could lift it right up and take it into the laundry room. That left Miss Longacre, the nurse, the one who'd referred him for "special help." He imagined a special chocolate cake made with some very "special chocolate" should have her glued to the lavatory for a while. Ben rubbed his hands together and allowed himself a brief smile before resuming his usual sullen look. Any sign of happiness would be pounced on as evidence and he had every intention of getting away with all three "crimes" scot-free.
Prank ideas were simple for Misha to come up with. She was the one running the schedules, ordering all the food, taking care of the inventory. The cops in West Silvertown never had any serious crime, so what could exchanging their target practice bullets with a few joke ones hurt? They'd fire them only to get a cloud of coloured smoke, some strawberry scented and some pumpkin spice...
"Pranks are for idiots!" screamed Mr Bunion, his face as red as the jam on his shirt. He threw the potato that had clogged his exhaust pipe randomly into the school yard, narrowly missing the principal on her way to see what the fuss was about and smashing a window instead.
Vaughn was immediately forced out of her happiness when she felt icy cold liquid pouring on her head. Droplets of juice splashed from the top of her head down onto her lap. Veins of sticky red punch trickled down her head, forcing her hair to stick to her face and her makeup to flow down onto her bare chest, soaking everything.
The children awoke to no shoes. In the place each one had put their footwear for the night was instead a picture of a winking smily face and a phrase, "Each step you take should be toward the brilliant sun or the silvery light of the moon." Tyler opened the barrack door to find Tom asleep at his post and the winter barren tree full of shoes tied by their laces.
Jimmy opened the envelope and shrieked like a girl, the car stickers had arrived! Tonight, rain or shine, it was game on! He tipped them onto the table and spread them out as if they were gold coins, rubbing his hands together. So many and all of them cats! As he waited on the couch the light seemed to fade more slowly than other nights, it drained away with the reluctance of a small child being lead from the candy counter. He took only one sticker and stole into the dark, dressed casually in jeans and a dark t-shirt. He'd thought of ninja clothes but who in this suburban backwater dressed like that? He stood looking at Mike's car and grinned before placing the sticker on the back window. Then he slunk away. The next night he returned, the cat was gone, perfect. He added two cats. The following night he went at three am, there was no way Mike would keep vigil that long. He added the ninety six remaining cats and slunk away. "There ya go Mike," he thought, "clean that off before work."
Borris examined the pumpkin guts in his hands, slippery and gross. His mind being the way it was, he started working on uses for it - many uses - and none of them helpful. He knew that roasting them was the grown-up thing to do, but he was twelve. Frankly, being an adult lasted long enough and he wasn't in a hurry to be more "mature." Like a gift from above he imagined Stacey covered in the goo. A slick smile spread, dimpling his cheeks in a way his mother found both cute and concerning at once. A plan was hatching, a beautiful plan. And she'd find it funny, right? The urge to do it overrode is nagging doubt so fast he never really noticed it. He was like Fred from Scooby Doo, he had a plan. But since he had no gang he set about making his trap himself.
...Jake got a bunch of news footage and doctored it and sent it direct to each sister’s computer so it would look like the real news. Anyway, sister one’s news was all positive, heroic firefighters and such. The sister two got a multiple murder, footage of terrorists, complex financial information and a story of a talking budgie who made the elderly happy. The third sister got news full of only war, terrorism and grisly murders. All of them had been followed by make-up and clothing commercials. Then Jake arranged to take all of us for lunch. Sister one was in a very positive mood, she was reflecting on how her life could be improved and some community work the news had inspired her to think about. Sister three wanted to talk about the state of the world, she was upset, depressed even, hardly touching her coffee. Sister two was quite flat, smiling, but in that way that told you her mind was elsewhere. She ordered more than she normally would, a sweet dessert too. Then she wanted to go shopping. She’d seen some advert for a new make-up and she wanted some. It wasn’t in her budget this week but what the hell, she could get blown up tomorrow so why not spend it all now? I asked sister two what was wrong and she rounded on me angrily. Even Jake was surprised. He had expected her to talk about what she’d seen and then he was going to confess and they’d laugh about it. But the second sister didn’t even know what was wrong with her. Her mind had been traumatized, but surrounded by such trivia she wasn’t able to process it appropriately. So instead her confused mind had latched on to the adverts, at least they made sense - she could buy things to be happy...
Found in Are you awake yet? - first draft, authored by .
It was summer in the city. The avenue was lined with the deep green foliage that stood still in the August heat wave. Lisa dawdled in their shadows before letting the sunrays heat her unguarded shoulders. She loved the heat but the shade in-between gave her the rest-bite she needed. As she descended the gentle slope she wanted to skip like she did as a girl, but instead she walked. Twenty somethings just don't skip – right? On every doorstep was a free paper, lying still, in no danger of being blown away. Then from around the corner came the familiar sight of Jack, his head bobbing along, buds popped into his ears. A slow grin spread over her face, a chance to have a little fun. In the otherwise empty street she crossed to the centre line, walking a wide arc until she was behind him. Little by little she snuck closer until she could shout “Boo!” He turned with a face that was just priceless before laughing in the way only he could.
...I was joking about the meat eating aliens by the way, all the species that wouldn’t listen to Love died out. They end up consuming each other on hellish planets, cut off from Love, believing themselves powerful in their own stew pots of misery and death. After all, selecting food based on "intelligence" is subject to how you define intelligence. Maybe I don’t define it the way you do - does that mean I can eat you? Excuse me for a minute...I’m feeling a bit sick...
Found in Are you awake yet? - first draft, authored by .
Kirsty slid her feet into her gym shoes only to find that her latest prank had been repaid in full. Her toes slid into what felt like cold jelly and smelled like rancid milk.
Leon grimaced. April the first mean another flurry of Alistair's practical jokes. Last year it was the replica gun in his trunk when crossed the boarder into Canada. The year before it was adding his name to national bake-off competition and having the local media over to interview him. He didn't know what to expect, the pranks were never low-key and Alistair swore every year he'd learnt his lesson and there would be no more...
Prank videos and calls were like cocaine to Lance. He watched them like other kids his aged watched cartoons. By nine he'd planned a series of pranks on the entire neighbourhood, acquired a camera and opened his own YouTube channel. By ten he'd be rich, he just knew it.