I have decided that life is more fun when you intentionally try to freak people out. Now, it's important to stipulate what kind of "freak out" I mean, as there are several kinds. Obviously, you don't want to go over the top, as this might cause someone to have a coronary. These coronaries are not God's way. However, as long as you do not cause any lasting damage as regards to the reaction, any kind of freaking a person out can be quite an enjoyable past time.
For example, I really freaked my sister out last night. Upon some advice from Ted concerning recurrent nightmares I've been having, I borrowed a bottle of Holy Water before bedtime to bless myself. The kind lender suggested I also sprinkle some on my bed. Well, Emily had no idea what I was doing when I promptly went into my room and began dousing my bed with the lovely stuff. She stopped typing on the computer and looked at me like I was the latest exhibit at the zoo. "What are you doing??" she asked. I told her about my nightmares, which only served to freak her out more, and slowly she looked away to her paper and began typing again. I think she's worried that I'm possessed or something.
I was on the recieving end the day before. At lunch Wednesday, I had asked Ted if she wanted to work out that afternoon. She was going to come up and get me after her adoration. Well, I was diligently cleaning room and, since no one was on the hall, I was alone. On my way into the bathroom to throw some trash away, Ted came up the stairs. A pretty normal activity, I must say. But, I was so startled that I sank to the ground. Kudos to Ted, who didn't even have to try
A key tenet of this pastime is the phrase which my dear mother taught me. If you ask stupid questions, you deserve stupid answers. I am a firm believer in this philosophy. When we were leaving Kansas, the packers had to park the truck right in front of the house. Now, the whole time we were there, I thought we were the sole populators of Kansas, which worried me about what was going to happen after we left. But, low and behold, as we are leaving, suddenly there were other human beings. They all took great pleasure in skipping over to the house to excitedly ask us if we were moving. Now, think about the circumstances. A huge moving truck parked outside of our house and our yard covered in boxes waiting to be put on the truck. Were we moving? No, we told them. We just wanted to see how our stuff looked on the truck.
Earlier last semester, Emily and I pulled off an excellent stunt. One night, when we were in our room, we plotted. Knowing that Ted was in Niki's room across the hall watching a movie with her, Emily worked up some tears and went tearing into the room. Niki and Ted became instantly concerned. Emily took Niki out into the hall and began crying to her about how she couldn't live with me any longer. I was too overbearing and played my music too loud. (At this point, due to our telepathy, I turned my music up louder, which only served to add to the grand effect). At this moment, Ted came into the hall to see if everything was ok. Hearing her arrival, I picked up Emily's suitcases in the room, tore my door open, and chucked them out the door, yelling that she was no longer a member of that room. Emily turned and began yelling, too. I have never seen quite those expressions and colors on Niki's and Ted's faces. Emily and I burst into laugher. You can imagine their reactions. It was glorious.
So, this is why freaking people out is one of my favorite hobbies. Not only does it give me a lasting joy, but it brings smiles to those around me. The victims aren't always smiling, but the surrounding people always find the event quite amusing. And so far, I haven't caused any damage. I'm tame compared to my older brother, who, during his time at Christendom, had a girl sobbing outside his window while he gave an evil laugh inside his room. Maybe it's genetic. But, whatever it is, it's great fun and I highly recommend it. Hearing other people scream, shreak, and run after you is a great stress reliever, for them and for you. Just watch out, sometimes the bruises take awhile to heal. And don't say I didn't warn you.
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Allow me, dear Readers, to impart a brief tale of amusement:
It was an average school-day in the Smith Household, and as usual, my younger sister was up at the crack of dawn and in the bathroom. Each morning at precisely 6:00 am (by some internal clock), Adrienne awoke and dominated the bathroom. The back of the house still being dark and my mother being in the kitchen, I stood silently and directly in front of the closed bathroom door. I did not move, I did not make noise - I simply stood flat against the closed door.
Upon opening the door, Adrienne was met with something directly in her path in the doorway. Her gasp and subsequent tears were enough to get me in a "whole passel o' trouble," but to this day it is one of my crowning scares. Have me tell you sometime about the Devil Scare and the Italian Angel Scare. Those, my friend, were the best of the best. Oh, and there are more about Adrienne, too.
I hate you, Justin Smith! :o)
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