When I was a kid, there was this one child who was a practical joker. Eugene was the kind of kid who always had one of those little Joy Buzzers on his hand, ready to greet you with a friendly hand shake. I think he ordered it from the back cover of a comic book. You could order anything from Sea Monkeys to glasses that allowed you to see through clothing (they didn’t work, I tried and all I seen was a skeleton that was painted on the backs of the glasses). He had other things too, such as whoopee cushions, flowers that squirted water at you, and gum that made your mouth black when you chewed it. He was that kind of kid.
One of the worst tricks he did, and one that actually taught him a valuable lesson was the bee trick. Eugene would hold a bee by the wings, and then attempt to shake your hand, causing the bee to sting the latest victim of his practical jokes. Like all practical jokes he played, someone usually got hurt, this time it was Eugene. Up until this time, he was very lucky. You see, Eugene had a bee allergy that he didn’t know about. He played the bee trick on a ton of kids, and never got stung even once, although the other kids suffered greatly from his terrible sense of humor.
On this occasion, the other kid was on to his trick. When Eugene extended his bee filled hand to greet him, the kid squeezed Eugene’s own hand together, causing the bee to sting Eugene. In minutes, Eugene vaulted into violent convulsions, and if it weren’t for the quick reaction of the soccer coach, the joker would be dead now. The doctors said that if they hadn’t gotten Gene to the hospital when they did, he would have died.
He doesn’t play tricks anymore. In fact, his wife complains that he is too serious. She is always trying to get him to kid around. “Don’t wake the beast” I tell her, in hopes that his joke playing days are over.