Boiled

Chuck was one of those guys that everyone liked, and everyone LOVED to pick on. He was a great sport, and put up with some pretty stupid shit. He'd just smile and shake his head... even after waking in the middle of the night to find that certain idiots had sucked all of the oxygen out of his dorm room by discharging a fire extinguisher through his window's box fan. No... that wasn't me. I was one of the two who kept lighting off bottle rockets under his door. Chuck just took it all in stride.

I've been reminded of one of the better pranks pulled on him.

The plumbing in the dormitory was a complete clusterfuck. Flush a toilet, and whoever was in the showers suffered. Yeah... I know this happens much, but in these dorms it was really bad. Anyway... Chuck worked late, and was always coming home long after most folks went to bed. That night, we all sat in the darkened living room, across from his room, waiting for him to get back, an ingenious plan about to be put in place.

Chuck arrived home and headed to his room, where he grabbed his shaving kit and shower gear. He then headed on down to the restroom before heading on to the shower room. One of the guys, wearing bedclothes and a severe case of fake bed head (he used hair gel), waited and then followed him down to the head. Once Chuck went into the shower room, he raced back down to get the rest of us, and we quietly thundered down the hall to the can.

Four stalls, six urinals... all flushed on the count of three. NO cold water made it to the showers. We could hear his yelp from two doors down. 'Course, most of us were already sprinting out the door after flushing, so that we could be near the showers when then second part of the plan kicked in.

It was November in Minnesota, so it was a bit on the cool side, and we had set a five gallon bucket of water outside. When our lookout had run down to get us, one of the guys had grabbed the bucket and crept into the shower room. His readiness was what our countdown was based on. A plastic chair was always in there, and he carefully placed that in the shower stall next to Chuck. Once Stew was standing on the chair with the bucket, we were given the signal.

As we raced to the shower room, and Chuck's shrieks, Stew made ready with the bucket. Once we opened the door to shower room, Stew dumped the bucket over the stall wall. Poor Chuck. Screaming, he flew out of the shower so fast that he ripped down the shower curtain as he fell. Gotta hand it to him... as soon as he saw what was going on, he laughed, promised that he'd get even with us, and hopped into another shower.

I can now identify with what Chuckles felt like... in the past week, I've had the pleasure of having my flesh boiled from my bones, and then blasted with arctic waters. ‘Bout knocked me over three different times. She ain't ever done it before, but obviously, when my aunt has company coming to visit, the morning is the best time to do laundry.

I don’t know if you call if fate, karma, kismet… all I know is that it is an ugly old beast.

Posted by That 1 Guy at November 27, 2006 07:05 AM | TrackBack