Who Even Forks Yards Anyways?

Time to confess, y’all: I do. I fork yards. 

Once upon a time, my family woke up to our front yard stabbed with hundreds (I may be exaggerating here) of little, plastic forks. As my brother and I pulled them out that day, I continuously broke into laughter at the image of someone sneakily shoving forks into the dirt repeatedly, and there vowed to become a forker ever since. 

 Finally, on the eve of my 19^th birthday, the stars aligned. 

 At midnight one of my best friends turned to me and said, “I’m feeling strangely awake!” She is one of those people who went to sleep at 11:00 during her freshman year at college. Over Christmas break, I was forced to throw ice cubes at her to prod her into staying up past 1. Her exclamation got me so excited that I proposed pranking someone, and hurriedly roused my other best friend who had passed out on a couch during a movie. As we discussed the possibilities, my excitement at finally reaching my goal became manic, and soon we were out the door with two boxes of assorted cutlery, a plate of peeps ripped off of my birthday cake, a flash light, and a bug spray fan clipped onto the waist of my oh so attractive matching purple cloud jammies. 

 Roomies—picture St. Patrick’s day times 3. 

The whole drive down to our unsuspecting victim (a lovely woman who is a “kindred spirit" as Anne of Green Gables would say) my 11:00 bedtime best friend was panicking, driving far below the speed limit, while me and my now fully alert and hyper amiga were in hysterics.

On reaching the destination, the whole situation got real.

The idea that someone would catch us clutching eating utensils and frosting covered peeps in our pajamas terrified us. We plotted, and decided that I would fork and my hyper amiga would throw the peeps while my 11:00 bedtime friend acted as look out and our escape ride.

Forking proved to be more difficult than I imagined. In the pitch black, I had grabbed two handfuls of mixed cutlery, and not many were forks. There is a reason it’s called forking: the fork stabs easier into the ground. And frankly spooning and knifing a yard just sound wrong and violent

After a brief scare, we decided to cut our prank short due to further paranoia and lack of supplies. We drove away a little less exhilarated, definitely more embarrassed, and very self-conscious about the poor pranking job done. 

 The next day I logged into Facebook, blushed, then preceded to laugh for hours. The son of the woman we pranked (also a friend) had posted an outraged and rather colorful response to our late night activities, complete with a picture (not shown).

           Edited for language it read: 

 Some dumb-bleep attempted to fork my yard. Lemme tell you why you did the bleepist forking job I've ever seen in my life.
1. There were maybe 30 plastic utensils in my yard, you're supposed to do the whole yard bleepnut.
2. You didnt just use forks, you used spoons and knives too. You didn't even bother sticking them in the ground either.
3. There were about 7 peeps in my yard. What was the purpose of that?!
4. You tried to fork a yard. What is this, 1999?

It took less than 3 minutes to clean this up, I hope you feel like a jack-bleep because you are.

 Thirty-Six people liked his post, and many people commented—all people I am acquainted with. I see the author of the post at least once a week at work, and have plans to get together with his mother later this summer. I plan on never telling them.

 Hopefully they don’t read this blog.

                                              The Moral(s) of the Story

 -For a prank to be sufficiently humorous—there is no middle ground. Either it has to be fantastic or embarrassingly horrible. 

 -Wear appropriate sneaky gear. Not your bright purple cloud pjs and little brother’s church shoes. 

 -Fulfilling one’s vows, while potentially mortifying, is incredibly self-gratifying.

 -Everyone needs best friends like mine: One to flow right alongside your crazy, and another to hang onto sanity and stop you from making too much of a fool of yourself. 

 -ANNALEE