Maybe I’ve always been a jokester. I’ve been remembering my first big practical joke. How I planned it. How I inflicted it upon the family. And how it flopped completely.
It was the 70’s. Kiss were king. Yes, Kiss. I couldn’t understand the fascination with Kiss. Imagine, some kids were collecting Kiss bubblegum cards! Sick I call it, ssiK. Give me VFL footy cards any day! Yeeeeesss.. I’ll swap you a Bernie Quinlan for a Neville Bruns!
One Sunday, I had seen that channel 10 were going to show part of a Kiss concert. 5pm Sunday. And so I resolved to show my hatred of Kiss. And as we waited for the 602 bus home from Elsternwick, I planned it. If the timing was right, we would get home before the concert was over. I would turn the telly on, and switch to channel 10. Kiss would appear. And I would scream, holding my head in my hands like it was exploding, and collapse on the floor.
What a killer joke. The family would be in hysterics. They wouldn’t be able to stop laughing. I’d be a star once again.
I’d love to be able to finish this story, but I can’t. Alas, I can’t remember the reaction, other than to say that the plan was a flop. Either when I turned on the television it was a commercial break, or everyone else went into other rooms, or they just plain didn’t laugh when I collapsed in a heap (possibly because it wasn’t funny).
Maybe I’ll ask them if they remember. Then the story might get finished.
