Disappearing acts cover up the facts/conspiracies that we can't track/the answer lies in the shadows behind our backs
So when talking to a friend, and he suggested that I tell you another story about the time me and another friend tried to con someone. So after some thought, I figure, why not? I've told worse stories right?
First, I should clarify a few things. Like what I mean by "con". I mean dupe, trick, finnagle, mistreat maliciously, prank if you will. But why? Why would I, Javann Lamar Jones, have ill intent against someone? That's just the thing. I really didn't. But just as you may have deduced from the first story (its in the Monday the 17th, January 2005 archives if you want the details) I don't have to have much of a reason. In fact, it's usually not a I-don't-like-this-person-so-lets-let-him-have-it type of thing anyway.
Second, this was an attempt, one that thanks, in part, to my incredible mental prowess would have worked. But just as I failed to forsee the obvious fault in what I just typed, so I failed to forsee the one thing that shot the whole plan to smithereens. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
It all started at Camino Real, a Mexican restaurant off of University/72. I went there with my friend, Mr. Giggles, for lunch after a long day of service. As we set and talked, we begin discussing the "reign of terror" unleashed upon us by none other than RocketBoy. Don't get me wrong, I love RocketBoy. He is entertaining, and he is quite the character, but his idea of party games isn't an ideal that I share. In fact, his party games stink. We were humiliated in the worse way ever. Okay, that's a sever exaggeration, but suffice it to say that we thought that he was alway "pranking" us or pulling some kind of joke that we didn't get until we were knee deep in. . ."the funny".
Mr. Giggles and I kept eating, and afterwards we begin discussing how we could possibly get RocketBoy back. Surely, there's gotta be a way. I threw out my best stuff, from wrecking and trashing his house, to turning all his furniture upside down. I think taking all his clothing was involved in there somewhere. Finally it hit me.
The one thing about RocketBoy is that he doesn't like crazy women. Not wild and crazy women, I'm sure he welcomes those, I mean he doesn't like psych ward regulars. Really, who does? So we decide to "create" just such a person, and get this: everyone would know her, but RocketBoy. This girl shall write RocketBoy all the time, giving him weird email's about little or nothing. So basically we created a TRL fan for RoketBoy's general amusement. Well, this girl needed a name, and that day, I dubbed her Amare.
And thusly she was born. Amare's first act was to get an email account. Then she contacted all of RocketBoy's friends and family (take note of that) and let them in on the joke. So here we are, all of us collectively giggling about how much we are going to mess up RocketBoy's life. Funny stuff, right?
Of course. The first day, when Amare signed onto MSN and spoke with RocketBoy, he flipped out. In fact, I remember him asking me about this girl, and whether or not I knew her like she said I did. First I said no. That freaked him out. Then of course after, I suddenly "remembered" her as that "hot girl" from East Tennessee.
Not that it mattered, because Amare did all she could to whoo the heck outta RocketBoy. Emails, MSN messenger, all forms of communications that gives away that she's a girl but not that she wasn't a girl. But to no avail. However, we still had RocketBoy begging to get this girl to just go away. Well, maybe not begging.
To wrape this up, RocketBoy found out. I'd like to say we dueled to the death and I won, but as I won, I restored peace to everyone of them. No, he found out through his sister, KillJoke. KillJoke spilled the beans, and Amare faded into history. And before we could get the arranged meeting after she called him on the phone. Our plan was to say we'd go with him to meet her, because she was good people, and then when he got there we were going to laugh at him. In all honesty its a good plan till the master gets a sniff of what goes on. Either way, I received retaliation, as I was stalked by a girl, who they didn't make up. That's right, a real girl, however, the letters weren't real. Hard to explain, but it was definitely weird. Which is why I tend to not respond to email of people I don't know now, or even better, people who I don't like. Why? Because it got uglier than the Amare thing got with RocketBoy. Much uglier. But all in good fun that tot. Either way, have a good one.
In retrospect, this pales in comparison to all the other indemnifying stories, but don't worry, I'm not tapped out by any means. I was just really tired when I wrote this.