The Great Prank War

      I, however, was quite comfortable, listening to the wind blow, and enjoying the warmth of the kitchen. My Anubis, Pan, was asleep on a chair next to me. It was a typical day in November, and I was waiting for my owner to come down to breakfast.

     Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Chaos, and I am a handsome red Wocky with a great sense of humor. Oddly enough, others don't always seem to think so, usually when they are on the receiving end of one of my many practical jokes… Oh well. It's their loss.

     Anyway, it was about 9:30 on a Sunday morning, and I had just poured two cups of tea, one for my owner, and one for myself. I added a liberal amount of lemon to mine, and reached for the sugar. The saltshaker was still on the table from last night. My owner, Ace, likes to sprinkle a bit of salt on her tuna jacket potatoes. Personally, I think she's a bit weird. As I put the sugar back, a rather devilish idea crossed my mind…

     A few moments later, a teenage girl appeared in the kitchen doorway. She was still wearing pajama bottoms and an old T-shirt. Her hair, brown streaked with a sapphire hue that is a few shades lighter than her eyes, was tousled. Her few freckles stood out visibly against pale skin. Ace is not a morning person.

     She came to the table, rubbing sleep from her eyes, and grunted what I took to be a morning greeting.

     "Thanks," she muttered, reaching for her mug. I watched eagerly as she stirred in a good amount the sugar bowl's contents, and raised it to her lips.

     "So, what do you feel like doing-"

     Tea sprayed over the table. Ace rushed to the sink for water to rinse her mouth. After gulping down two glasses, she turned to me.

     "What did you DO to it?" she demanded, now wide-awake.

     "I thought you liked salt," I said innocently, though I couldn't help but grin.

     She shook her head. "Oh, mister, you are so asking for it."

     At this point I should stop and explain. Most owners wouldn't retaliate. They'd probably just fume for a week or so, and then be over it. But Ace isn't like most owners. To her, this was a challenge, one she was not going to back down from. And so it began.

* * *

     The rest of the morning passed uneventfully. After rereading "The Macho Kyrii" for the third time, I decided that I could use some exercise. I went downstairs to find Pan sitting near the front door. I guess he had the same idea.

     "Ace," I called, "I'm going to take Pan out for a walk!"

     "Fine," came her reply from the living room. "Just don't track mud all over the house when you come back."

     "Mud…?" I looked out the window. Rain was pouring down, streaking the windowpanes. I sighed. As much as I loved the rain, I hated the boots I had to wear. Of course, the alternative of not wearing them was worse. Have you ever tried to get mud out of your fur? If not, let me tell you, it's a real pain.

     I sat down on the chair by the coat rack, and pulled on the much-hated Wellington boots. When I stood to get Pan's leash, I knew instantly that something was amiss. I took a step forward. Something inside my boots squished.

     "Oh no…"

     I sat down and wrenched my left boot off as quickly as possible. It had been filled with homemade gooseberry jam. I pulled the right one off. Marmalade.

     "Ace!" I yelled, extremely ticked off.

     She came into the entryway, now in jeans and a blue Marbleman T-shirt, and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest.

     "Something the matter?" she asked, her tone innocent.

     "That's it," I snapped. "This means war!"

     I got up and stalked off to take a bath, leaving jelly footprints in my wake.

      * * *

      Ten minutes later, I sat in a hot bath, muttering angrily to myself as I scrubbed. "I have to get her back for this. I'm not going to take this lying down! No, sir. She's going to regret ever teaching me about pranks in the first place."

     I squeezed some Rain Water Shampoo into my palm and began to lather up. Or tried to, anyway. The shampoo didn't get foamy the way it should have. Instead, it just felt sticky.

     "Wait a minute…"

     I picked up the shampoo bottle and sniffed. It didn't have its usual smell, like pine trees and rain washed air, with a hint of normal soap. Instead it smelled like… Honey.

     "Ace!"

      * * *

      I spent the afternoon planning, and by the time Ace called me down for dinner, I had a half dozen ideas just about worked out. As I stepped off the bottom step, the smell of minestrone soup wafted under my nose. My stomach growled. Making evil plans all day sure can make a guy hungry.

     "Chaos, come on!" Ace called from the kitchen. "Get it while it's hot!"

     You have no idea, I thought to myself as I walked into the kitchen and helped set the table.

     Ace ladled soup into two bowls while I fed Pan. When she turned around to pour glasses of milk, I slipped a couple chunks of chopped up Flaming Burnumup into her bowl. We sat down and began to eat in silence. After a few minutes I stopped and frowned. Ace didn't appear to notice anything wrong with the taste of her soup. I thought hard, trying to remember if she had ever mentioned liking particularly spicy foods. Absently, I took a large spoonful of soup. Suddenly, my tongue began to burn. My mouth felt as though it had caught on fire!

     I dashed to the sink for water to extinguish the flames. When I turned around, Ace was looking at me, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

     "Let your guard down, didn't you?"

     I went back to my room, planning all the way.

      * * *

      Monday Ace woke up to find her shoes glued to the floor. That night when I went to go to sleep, I discovered my bed had been short-sheeted.

     Tuesday afternoon, Ace reached for the doorknob to the bathroom, only to find that someone had covered it in peanut butter. Later that day, my friend came over to listen to my new Moehawk CD, but when I put it on, we were both horrified to hear the "Greatest Hits of 2 Gallon Hatz." Ugh, I hate country music.

     Wednesday about fifteen Neomails came for Ace, about the paintbrush she was "giving away." Apparently, someone had posted a notice on the message board saying she had one she wanted to get rid of.

     Thursday, I was woke up with shaving cream all over my face, and Ace walked into her room to have a bucket of cold oatmeal up ended over her head.

      Friday morning, I rose early and cautiously went downstairs. I fixed breakfast for myself, slowly opening cabinets and carefully examining my food before beginning to eat, to be sure there were no booby traps waiting for me.

     I had almost finished my bowl of Corn Crunchies when I heard a yell of alarm from upstairs. Not a scream mind you, but a yell. Ace never screams like a normal girl. See, I told you she was weird. Anyway, judging from the distress in her voice, I guessed she had found my little surprise.

     I went up the stairs, down the hall, and triumphantly walked into Ace's room with Pan following at my heels. Ace was standing in the middle of the bedroom, open mouthed in shock. I couldn't blame her. Her normal Zen themed furniture had been replaced with items all of the same shocking pink.

     On the floor where her cream rug usually lay there were several round pink ones. Her mostly finished Economics homework lay on top of a pink vanity desk, a pink sparkly brush off to one side. Under a heart shaped stained glass window was a large pile of pretty pink pillows. Even the walls were plastered with pink Usukicon posters. I went over to where her Zen Drawer used to stand, and opened the pink painted wooden drawer to reveal the final touch.

     All of her normal clothes were gone. The blue and yellow marbleman t-shirts, the plain white ones, her favorite 'I love the Neopian Times' T-shirt, and her blue jeans were missing. Instead, there was a single pink T-shirt and a pink skirt.

     I grinned wickedly as Ace backed away in horror. Her mouth moved soundlessly. Finally she spoke.

     "Truce…?"

     I paused, considering this offer. Sure, I was ahead in points at the moment, but that could change. And how could I outdo myself after this?

     Slowly, I nodded. "I guess we should stop while the house is still standing."

     Ace sagged against the wall in relief. "I'm glad that's over. Now, where is my furniture? I'm not even going to ask where all of this came from."

     "Yeah, you probably shouldn't. Anyway, your stuff is safe. It's in the attic."

     "Clothes too?"

     "Yeah, in the box that says 'whoopee cushions.'"

     "Good." She straightened. "I'm going to take a shower. And when I'm done, you get to help me move all my stuff back into my room."

     "Aww, Ace…" I protested as she walked out of the room. With a sigh, I went up to where I had hidden the box of her clothes. She would need something to wear later. I found the box concealed behind a crate of what Ace was convinced were possessed lawn gnomes, picked it up, and was halfway down the stairs when a thought struck me.

     "I wonder if Ace ever took the honey out of the shampoo bottle…?"

     Just then, a dismayed cry came from the bathroom.

     "Oh, not again!"

     I grinned. Revenge is sweet.

The End

Author's Note: I take absolutely no responsibility for the consequences of anyone performing any of the above-mentioned pranks. They are for reading enjoyment only. Now if you will excuse me, I have to go before my parents find out who turned all of the furniture upside down…