April Fool's Day Contest Winners Announced
On April 1 the contest closed, and our selection committee took its time picking the winners for the entries. Thanks everyone for entering. It is always fun to see what creative ways our writers use the odd words we require them to use.
And the winners are (drum roll please) ...
First Place: Linda Lee of Milledgeville, Georgia, "Hints from the Animal Kingdom"
First Honorable Mention: Elysabeth Eldering of Honea Path, South Carolina, "The Proposal"
Second Honorable Mention: Valeria Fentess, Houston, Texas, "How the Blue Bird of Happiness Flew South"
Their fun stories follow. Read and enjoy and tell your friends about the stories.
The stories had to have an April Fool'sDay theme and include at least four of these "prompt words":
- Dunce hat
- Empty shipping carton
- Candles that "don't blow out"
- Sports star (of your choosing)
- Big Foot footprints
- Engagement ring box
- The blue bird of happiness
- Professional golfer
- A croaking frog
HINTS FROM THE ANIMAL KINGDOM
By Linda Lee
The blue bird of happiness has messed all over my life. A big flying rat is what it is, and they looked so cute in Snow White, too.
Let me start at the beginning. I have a career that allows me to earn a living enriching the minds of this city's young monsters. Don't get me wrong, I love the little beasts, but some days I wonder why I didn't get a computer science degree so I could make a living holed up, in silence, for hours at a time.
Take today, for instance. Marcy Wright came to school this morning with a runny nose. Her mother sent a box of tissues with her, so she is aware of the child's condition. Things are fine, until recess.
Marcy will have to stay inside, with me, while Miss Turner takes the class to the playground. She works a puzzle while I grade papers.
"Croak"
What was that? "Marcy do you need a drink of water?"
"No." She shuts a little box, like one my engagement ring had come in. The one I gave back to Chester McGraw as quickly as the appraiser said "Zirconium."
I turn back to second grade reports on bats.
"Croak."
"Honey, I really think you should get a drink for that cough."
"It's not me, Miss Wonderful. It's Prince." She shuts the little box again.
Before I can investigate Prince's condition, the fire bell rings. No one told me about a fire drill, so I assume real danger. I grab Marcy's jacket and my purse, take her by the hand and head for the playground. We hurry out the exit door and get in the group with the rest of our class. "I count twenty-one," Miss Turner yells.
"Good, we're all here," I holler back.
A fire truck roars up to the building and several fire fighters climb down. One of them is rather cute, but I think he knows it, as his rubber suit fits much too snuggly to be simply functional. I envision him sliding down the pole at the firehouse. Then I put myself in that picture. Oops, kid alert. I try to save those extra curricular activities for after school.
"Are they ever going to turn that bell off?" I yell. We stand for almost thirty minutes, the kids with their hands over their ears, wiggling, giggling and enjoying the extra recess time.
My head begins to beat a rhythm with the alarm. A kettle drum is pounding in my head. There are neither flames nor smell of smoke. Someone needs to stop that sound.
"I'm going to see what is happening," I yell to Miss Turner. My real mission is to stop that incessant ringing.
I speed walk to the other side of the building and enter the front door. Inside I see a firefighter with 'chief' on his jacket yelling in the ear of Mr. EnCharj. They are waving their hands and I see strain on their faces as they fight to be heard.
"Miss . . . Danger. . . Outside," the chief says.
"Bell!" I answer.
"Outside. . .Wonder. . ." Mr. EnCharj says, pointing to the door.
"Bell!" I shout louder and stomp my foot.
Mr. EnCharj takes my arm and leads me out the door. "Calm . . . It will . . . Okay," Mr. EnCharj yells in my ear. "Stay out. . dangerous."
"Stop the bell. It is driving me crazy. Can't they fight the fire without the bell?"
He pushes me out the door as a big black box truck pulls up in the school drive. 'BOMB SQUAD' is written in big gold letters on the side of it. Four men climb out of the truck.
One starts helping another get dressed in a big space suit- like outfit while the other two unload a strange metal contraption. It looks almost like a robot, as it has arms and runs on track feet, but it has no head. They make it go forward and backward, left and right. I don't know if they are checking it out, or just like playing with it.
The man in the space suit takes the controller and walks the robot up the sidewalk to the school doors. Someone inside swings a door open and the astronaut and his robot disappear inside the tinted glass. In no time the chief and Mr. EnCharj walk out. Another bomb squad guy pulls them behind the truck with the rest of us peons.
"Welcome to the party," I say. They can't hear me. That incessant bell is muted.
"Thank goodness," several people say. The bomb squad guy in the space suit must have realized all that noise was no longer necessary. I still have the ringing in my ears, but it is the internal affect, from the time spent exposed to the alarm's robust knell. I cup my hands over my ears and quickly lift them in an effort to suck the noise from the chamber right behind the anvil, or is that the hammer? Either way, it doesn't work.
I'm still doing the vacuum maneuver when space-suit guy appears and props the front door open. He slowly walks backwards, keeping his eye on the robot, which is now carrying a box. "Back up, everyone." The other members of the bomb squad spread their arms and herd us to the back of the building.
"It is unsafe for you to remain in this area. Please go back to your students and move them as far from the building as possible," Mr. EnCharj says, as if the rest of us hadn't heard the chief say it the first time.
Now would be the perfect time to load my class up for a field trip to the mall. They can learn about free enterprise and I could buy an outfit for the writer's group I recently joined, which is meeting tonight. The next John Grisham might be in this group. How would he know I was his soul mate if he didn't notice me?
I ask Mr. EnCharj about this, the field trip, not the soul mate thing, and he just scowls at me. He says nothing, just shakes his head, more like he can't believe how stupid something is, than like he is saying no. Could be his ears are still ringing, too, but I don't pursue it.
I rejoin Miss Turner and we take our students to the far edge of the playground. Suddenly, there is a loud pop. Not a big explosion, more like the Jolly Green Giant sticking his finger in his mouth and making that popping noise, like my little brother used to do, until he learned to do the hand under the armpit sound.
That's it?
"Everyone back to your classroom. Everything is fine." This from the intercom. Miss Turner and I count heads and march toward the building.
All the excitement causes me to forget about Marcy and her Prince until she slips her little hand into mine and says "Will you kiss him?"
"Kiss who?" I ask.
"Prince."
"What prince?"
"The little frog I have in the box," she answers. "My daddy thinks it will help my grades."
"He does? How will my kissing a frog help your grades?"
"Well, my daddy says you spend too much time worrying about your clothes and hair and if you would just find your prince, you could concentrate on teaching second grade. He said you were going to have to buck up and kiss a few frogs."
"Unh-huh, he did, did he?" Mr. Wright is the one who always holds on too long when we shake hands, and makes comments about how nice I smell. I can't tell his daughter this, though. I am fuming, but decide to keep this to myself. "Do you really think frogs will turn into princes?"
"My daddy says they will. I would love to see what this one looks like as a man." She opens the box and a tiny tree frog jumps out. I can't control it; I yelp and jump, too.
"Oh no," Marcy starts to cry, "Come back, Prince. Miss Wonderful will kiss you. Won't you, Miss Wonderful?"
"I, uh, where did he go?" I don't want to commit myself with the possibility of imminent capture still in the air.
"Oh, Prince, please come back. Where are you?"
All the kids start dancing around and looking for the frog. Some start to frog jump and bump into other students.
"I'm sorry about your frog, Marcy, but we need to go back to class now."
"But, what about Prince? How will you find a husband?"
"Right now, we need to get back to a math lesson. I'm sure Prince is on his way home to tell his family tales about the nice girl who took him to school."
I prod her to get her through the doorway and into our classroom.
At lunch, all the talk is about the morning's excitement. The unofficial word is that a janitor left an empty shipping carton in the doorway. He was taking it to the dumpster, with the trash bags, when he dropped it. His hands were full, so he left it, to be retrieved when he finished his unofficial cigarette break. While he was still inhaling the life out of a cancer stick, the principal noticed a box sitting just inside a door that should only open from the inside. He noticed a rock jammed between the door and frame and, assuming subterfuge was afoot, he pulled the fire alarm. They couldn't turn off the alarm as the control box was just a few feet from the menacing box. The janitor took it as a sign of a longer break and never bothered to investigate. The pop we heard was the empty box being exploded. It was x- rayed, so they knew there was nothing in the box, but bomb squad guys have a warped sense of humor, so they blew it up.
The afternoon passes uneventfully. I want to go to the mall after work to get that new outfit. As I am putting papers away, Mr. EnCharj walks into my room.
"I just wanted to apologize for being so abrupt with you during our emergency today," he says.
"I understand, tension was high at the time. I didn't take it personally."
"Thank you. I was just so worried about someone being hurt. I know you heard about the empty box, it's all over school. It could have been a tragedy if I hadn't acted quickly. You see that don't you?"
Why was he asking me? Had he discussed this with other teachers, or was I just the lucky one?
"I understand why you felt the need to get help. With all the talk of terrorists it is easy to see why you would freak."
"Freak? You think I freaked? Let me tell you, Miss Wonderful, I absolutely did not freak. I was doing my job. My job is to oversee the safety and well being of my faculty, staff and students. How dare you judge me?"
"I didn't mean to. . ."
He cuts me off with a diatribe of a principal's duties and how hard they work with no appreciation. "You have no idea how much easier it is to be just a teacher."
By the time he is done, it is too late to shop. Hoping he is depleted of adjectives to describe my easy job, I explain I have a meeting to attend and exit to drive home. Mr. EnCharj is still sitting in a student chair when I leave. He may be stuck. I don't ask.
After a quick dinner of drive-through fare, I shower and dress for my meeting. I slip into a nice enough spring dress and hope it will be sufficient for the literary crowd. I plan to get to the mall before next week's meeting. Hopefully, Mr. Best Selling Author won't judge me by today's couture'.
The group meets in the basement of the library and I park my Honda next to a black SUV. As I step out of my car, the door of the SUV opens and there is Mister Tight Pants.
"Hi, are you the new group member I heard about?"
"I don't know if I'm the one talked about, but I'm here for the writer's group." How could I have known the man I fantasized about, with a pole, is a writer.
"That's the group. Aren't you a teacher at the Vine Street School? Didn't I see you today when the principal escorted you from the building? You have to be careful in those situations. You could get seriously hurt."
"That would be me. And you're a fire fighter?"
"Actually I am a pro golfer who just happens to like responding to fire calls."
"Oh." My fantasy now sees him miss the pole and fall to the concrete floor, with a bounce thrown in for fun.
"Just kidding, I'm a fire fighter by day and a poet by night."
"Really? How interesting." I notice the slacks he wears, while well fitting, aren't at all too tight. Nice.
"I hope you enjoy the group. Come on, I'll introduce you to the gang. What do you write?"
"I'm working on a fairy tale right now. It's about kissing frogs to turn them into princes."
"I think that one's been done," he smiles. "My wife says that is what happened with me."
He has a wife? Isn't that just my luck? I'm glad I didn't buy a new outfit, now.
"Really? How sweet."
"Yep, she's a real sweetheart." He holds the door open for me. "We need to go through that red door on the right." The group is made up of six elderly women, and three men: Mr. Tight Pants, a Mr. Thomas, who keeps making eyes at one of the women, and Mr. EnCharj.
I concede, to myself, this wasn't what I expected, and take a seat next to the Widow Martin.
"Croak."
Huh?
"Croak."
The noise came through the open window. Mr. Thomas starts to read a story about the Emperor Nero.
"Croak."
"Excuse me," I say, "I think my life is calling."
I walk to my car watching for a little frog. There he is. As I reach the back of my car, I see him jump from my windshield.
My key in the lock, I scan the area for the little guy. As I start to sit behind the wheel, a pattern seems to take shape on the glass. At first, I can't make it out, but if I stand so that the setting sun shines on it just right, I can make it out. Little suction cup feet have walked all over the windshield and left a message, "APRIL FOOL!" This bug-eyed amphibian is in cahoots with the blue-winged rodent!
THE PROPOSAL
By Elysabeth Eldering
Ribbit. Ribbit.
Stella looked around but couldn't locate the sound. Henry suppressed a chuckle.
Henry had made reservations at the fanciest restaurant in town. Stella sat there all dressed up, about to burst at the seams from what promised to be the best birthday ever. Not her usual joke-filled day. The evening was supposed to be romantic but the frogs were ruining that. Why couldn't Stella have a normal, romantic birthday with the love of her life?
Henry was the most straight-laced person she had known in her life, although a bit gullible and on the receiving end of a prank. Stella was thankful for this because having a birthday on April Fools' Day meant Stella had received every practical joke ever thought of as a gift; none from Henry over the years as his gifts were the most sincere. This year, though, Stella was hoping for a simple, romantic dinner. This was a special birthday for her - her twenty-fifth. Henry had gone through lots of planning to mark a quarter of a century for Stella.
After five years of being together as a couple, Stella just knew this nice, quiet evening would be special.
Ribbit. Ribbit. The frogs kept going, like the Energizer Bunny.
"Aren't you going to order something?" Henry asked.
"I've not much of an appetite. These frogs are driving me crazy. You do hear them, don't you?"
Henry shook his head. Stella looked at him as if he had just slapped her. "Henry, surely you hear them croaking every few minutes during the music. It's like the restaurant has piped in the frogs just for me. Let's go somewhere else."
"No, it's okay. Maybe you are the only one hearing them because it's your birthday."
"Not a chance. I'm going to ask the maitre'd to turn off the music. Surely, there are other people here who hear those silly frogs too."
Stella motioned for the maitre'd. "Please sir, tell me you hear the frogs over the music."
"No, Mademoiselle. I only hear the wonderful music that plays every night," he replied in his French accent, which matched the ambience of the restaurant.
"Will you please just turn off the music then? I'm hearing frogs and I don't like them. It's ruining my night."
"If we turn off the music for you, then all the other patrons will not enjoy the atmosphere and romance we provide."
"Fine. Just give me some frog legs for an appetizer." Maybe that'll shut them up.
Henry held Stella's hand, trying to calm her down. "Stella, hon. Let's calm down about the frogs. Try not to think of them. Remember we're here celebrating your birthday, not the jokes you usually get. Besides, I've something to ask you."
"I'll try to put those frogs out of my mind but they're aggravating. And you know how much I dislike them. But for you, I will try."
Ribbit. Ribbit.
Henry pulled a small box from his pocket. "Stella, we've been together a while now. I want to ask you something important."
Stella gulped.
"Stel, hon. I really love you and think we are meant to be together. Oh, wait. I'm supposed to be down on one knee when I ask you." Henry came around to Stella and kneeled, taking her hand. "Will you marry me?"
Stella nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, yes, yes. I've waited so long for this." Stella opened the engagement ring box only to find a piece of paper rolled up in the slot where the ring should have been. She unrolled it and read what Henry had neatly printed on the front, "NOT". What is this? He asks me to marry him and then says NOT. "Um, Henry, is this some kind of joke?"
"Did you read the back of it?"
Stella turned the paper over and read "April Fools'" and looked very confused. "So does this mean that the proposal was a joke or that just not having the ring is the joke?" Stella was about in tears, feeling rejected. She continued seething silently, turned to Henry and said, "I can't believe you have been involved in any practical jokes today, since you've not participated before."
"Actually, the empty box was the joke. Your mother helped me plan that part. I really do want you to marry me. Here's the ring for real."
Stella gazed at the ring. It was beautiful. Oh, how she wanted to trust Henry right now, but after his little joke, Stella found it hard to believe him. The ring could be fake, too. "So, they say that the less real a ring is the more beautiful it is. True? I'm not sure I should accept this ring now, knowing my mother's in on the jokes tonight. You know she's the queen of jokes around our house. Every year, she bests herself . No one can beat her jokes."
Ribbit. Ribbit.
"The only joke this time was the note in the box. The ring is real and I don't know anything about other jokes. The note joke was to get you a little flabbergasted."
"Just a little? Those damned frogs are still driving me nuts. And then the ring. Yep, flabbergasted is about right."
After dinner, Stella and Henry stared into each other's eyes. The waiters and waitresses started the restaurant's version of "Happy Birthday" from the kitchen. Stella thought the singing was too far away to be geared toward her. She sighed in relief until the cake with the many candles ended up in front of her. Stella's cheeks burned from being the center of attention. As the song ended, she blew out the candles. Several times. The candles wouldn't go out. She must have blown ten times before everyone said "Happy April Fools' Birthday" to her. She laughed and pulled all the candles from the cake, dunking them in her water to put them out.
"So, whose idea was this, yours or my mother's?" Stella glared at Henry.
Ribbit. Ribbit.
"Honestly, Stel, hon. I had nothing to do with the candles. I did, however, inform the maitre'd when I made our reservations that it was your birthday and that I wanted you to have a special cake since you have the worst day for a birthday. Maybe it was the chef's idea to do this."
"Not likely. They don't know me and this smells rotten. Smells of my mom, like when she put some dye in my shampoo. That was a nightmare. Picture day. And I had to go to school with purple hair." Stella shook her long, curly, auburn hair.
Henry smiled. "True. I haven't been a joker but your mother made this so much fun and knowing I was proposing to you, she had to get you somehow. It's been great so far not being the butt of everyone else's practical jokes."
"So, is this it? Everything that is meant to be played on me? I mean, this seems to be the most jokes I've had on me at once. Three by the same person. So anything else I should know about?"
Henry shrugged.
"Well, since the cake and ring are done, I say let's get out of here before anything else happens that would totally embarrass me."
"Okay. Hope you aren't too upset about the jokes we played on you."
"No, I'm not upset. It's expected, especially knowing my mother is involved. These were mild compared to some of the things she's done in the past, like the year we went to dinner and she had the cook add some gummy worms to my hamburger. That was gross and disgusting, having the whole restaurant staring at me and laughing."
The maitre'd whispered to Stella as they reached the door, "By the way, we piped the frogs in just for you. Your mother called and said you loved frogs sooo much. Hope you enjoyed your April Fools' birthday gift from the restaurant."
Stella laughed. Now she knew it was a joke set up just for her. "So how did you keep the other patrons from complaining?"
"We let them know when they were seated to just ignore the frogs during the music since it was a special treat for a special customer."
Stella nodded. Another joke by her mother, knowing how much she detested frogs which was in part due to high school biology class and Johnny Jones. After the group had dissected the frog, Johnny decided to put the frog down Stella's shirt. Yep, another birthday joke. Stella shuddered.
Henry guided Stella out the door, steering her toward the car. Stella stepped back seeing a flash of white coming toward her. "Is that Martina Navratilova? No way. Can't be. Martina here?"
Henry nodded and continued advancing toward the car.
"Evening, Stella." Martina greeted her. "I've been told in order to marry Henry, you have to beat me in a game of tennis."
"What? I don't know how to play tennis. No way can I beat you." Stella turned toward Henry, begging with her eyes to end the madness. Henry wasn't there.
Stella ran to the car, jumping in as fast as she could. "Come on, Henry. Let's get out of here. This day just keeps getting weirder."
Henry cranked the car and drove Stella home. Stella embarked on a new joke with Henry's help.
"Hello, Mother. We're home."
"Great. How was dinner?"
"You probably know dinner was a bust with all the jokes. I can't even believe you got Henry to partake in them. You had me pretty upset tonight."
"Jokes aside, did you have a nice dinner?"
"I didn't even get to eat dinner. What with those stupid frogs croaking during the time we were in the restaurant and the empty engagement ring box. I guess it's not meant to be for me to have a nice, quiet birthday as long as you're around."
"Stel, hon. You know I love you very much. I'm only trying to bring joy to you, a few smiles along the way."
"Fine. Just so you know, I turned Henry's proposal down. I couldn't accept due to the fact that I wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't."
Stella's mom stood there, unable to speak.
"What's the matter, Mom? Cat got your tongue?"
"No, no. That's not right. You aren't saying no to Henry because of me, are you?"
"Not at all. I just didn't think I should marry Henry since I'm not in love with him. I've been seeing the new garbage man lately and feel I should at least give him a chance. So, Henry is out of here for now. Bye-bye. Gone."
"Stella, you've got to be kidding. No way are you throwing away five years as well as a good man. Come on, dear. Let's talk about this and make sure you aren't throwing away something you've wanted for a long time."
"Mom, it's over. There isn't anything to talk about." Stella turned away from Henry who was still standing in the doorway. "Oh, by the way, April Fools'. I got you good. You should've seen your face."
HOW THE BLUE BIRD OF HAPPINESS FLEW SOUTH
By Valerie Fentress
So I was dating this girl, and in a cruel twist of fate I sit here with four kids, a career-driven wife, and a dog that won't stop peeing in the house.
It's hard to know where to start. I could begin with the April Fool's joke that was taken too seriously, or I could tell you a little about myself. Well I guess you need the history in order to appreciate where I find myself now.
It is best to look at who I was years ago through the yellow lenses of stereotypes. I was the rich brat that every teacher hated, but loved to force in the corner, dunce cap firmly in place. Of course my friends labeled me the class clown and I lived up to that title until the joke was on me. But we'll get to that in a moment.
Skipping ahead to college years, I was the resident party animal. No matter my father's scolding to get focused I was determined to become a slacker or officially a professional golfer.
Now I had dated a lot in my younger years, and was determined to be the resident bachelor when my friends began to tie on the ol' ball and chain. But then I met Bree.
Now let's stop there and place the stereotype glasses on once more. If you were to look at her across the room, as I did with these yellow lenses, you would see a beautiful flake.
The perfect find for a short romance and a professional bachelor, but let me warn you, no matter the stereotype, every woman is a genius when it comes to men.
As luck would have it she was an amateur golfer, so most of our dates were over
beers at the nineteenth hole. My pal John described our relationship best, "a match made in Toontown." We played pranks and joked like the best comedians. Candles that don't go out on every birthday cake and good ol' classics like whoopee cushions. You get my drift.
Now we get to the fateful joke that changed my world. Bree and I had been dating
for three months when April rolled around. To a prankster like myself April Fool's Day is better than Christmas. I had been planning gags since March first, and I figured Bree was doing the same, since our relationship was a big joke to most onlookers. I set up a tee time for late afternoon for April first. When we got to the thirteenth hole it was already dusk, and I had shot the ball into the forest to the right of the fairway. Side note:"just because I wanted to be a professional golfer doesn't mean I was actually good.
Bree and I searched for my ball in the brush for a good ten minutes, and when I
found the white dimpled source of frustration I knelt down on one knee.
"That's a good look for you." Bree joked. That's when I knew it was time for the
ultimate prank. I pulled out a blue velvet engagement ring box, and did the big boy thing.
"Bree, will you marry me?" I opened the small box to reveal a ring from the
bottom of a Cracker Jack box.
"Yes, I will marry you," Bree exclaimed, pulling me to my feet and into a bear
hug. After freeing myself from her grip, I looked at her eyes to see if she was in on the joke. But her eyes were full of hope and excitement that left me speechless. As I looked at her I could feel the frog in my throat and the other croaking frogs filled the silence as they placed a ball and chain around my foot.
Just wait the joke gets better. Bree was so elated that somehow I was convinced
into a car then an airplane, and into a chapel in Vegas. The wedding bells had barely stopped ringing when baby number one popped out and Bree went professional in the LPGA.
So I sit here the butt of my own joke taking care of the kids and cleaning up after Bree's crazy dog; which was my April Fool's day gift last year.