Day: August 1, 2024

Practical Jokes and Family Laughter: My Hilarious Bucket Prank Misfires

Water head

Though I wasn’t an actual heathen, I looked like one compared to my older sister Phyllis.  In her religious fervor, she never missed a church service, sang in the choir, and volunteered for all kinds of activities. Conversely, I dreaded Sunday mornings, knowing I’d have to sit through another long service.   This rankled me, so one Sunday I decided to brighten the day by propping a bucket of water over our bedroom door, knowing Phyllis would be coming through in a minute or so. 
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I didn’t have to wait long for the dousing, but to my horror, Mother was the victim, not Phyllis!  Miraculously, as Mother stood there drenched from head to foot, it struck her as funny!  To my shock, she laughed hysterically, saving my sorry life.  Fortunately, she still had her pin-curled hair still tightly wrapped in a scarf, so her Sunday hairdo wasn’t ruined, probably the only thing that saved my life.

Being a fast learner and a really smart kid, I had to try it again since it had worked out so well.  Reasoning Phyllis would never expect an attack now, I set my bucket trick up again about twenty minutes later when she was due to come flying through to put the finishing touches on her “Glory Look!”  Holy Cow!  The door opened and I got Mother again!  This time she was all dressed, hair styled, makeup perfect, ready to walk out the door! 

I expected to die.  Thank God! Thank God! Shock got her again.  She laughed like a maniac, reprieving me.  I’d thought I might be going to Jesus then and there!

Random Act of Kindness

Daily writing prompt
Write about a random act of kindness you’ve done for someone.
View all responses

I don’t like to write about this, so I’ll make it brief. I gave a coworker my coat when I learned her house had burned.

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Best of Best Afternoon Dog Funnies

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Aunt Ader’s Place Part 8

Aunt Julie was from a very proper home, though generally untroubled by the high standards set by   her mother, Mrs. Townsend.  That austere lady always wore black dresses with white collars, stockings tied in a roll at her knees, and a severe black straw or felt hat, depending on the season.  Though Aunt Julie’s housekeeping was poor to nonexistent, on the occasions Mrs. Townsend was to visit, the house was immaculate.  

It was confusing on those rare times to come in and find the kitchen sparkling,  the toilets flushed and scrubbed, and bathroom floors free of piles of dirty laundry and unlittered with used sanitary napkins.  I never understood why no one flushed the turds since the toilets worked.  I had no idea what the soiled sanitary pads played till my cousin Sue explained her older sisters had a lot of nosebleeds.  At the rate the napkins multiplied, I was amazed never to have witnessed a nosebleed.

When Granny visited, the kids wore starched and ironed clothes instead of running around near naked in their step-ins as they normally did.aunt Julie and the kids were glad to see Granny go, but my uncle said he wished she lived there to keep Aunt Julieon her toes.  Aunt Jule had fourkids.  Three of them gre up to live in squalor, while Sue’s homemaking skills were impeccable.

Clothilde: A Family Name Battle

I was almost named Clothilde. (KLO-TEEL.  It would have been a source of constant torment to be named Clothilde. (It wouldn’t have taken mean kids long to rename me Kotex.) Daddy tried to hang that horrendous name on my three sisters,too. No matter what heinous deed my mother may have committed or may commit in the future, I forgive her because she stuck up for me when it really mattered. Daddy was raised in North Louisiana during the deepest of the Depression, one of seven pitiful children always on the brink of starvation. His father either rented a farm or sharecropped when he couldn’t manage rent. He died young leaving a widow and family. Daddy didn’t speak often about his family’s situation, but occasionally slipped up and revealed the difficulties they suffered. They were a troubled family, economically and socially and moved frequently.

As an adult, Daddy patterned himself on Mr. Ward, a prosperous landlord he knew as a child. I am grateful Mr. Ward provided Daddy a good role model, except for one small problem. Mr. Ward had a lovely daughter named Clothilde. Her hideous name threatened all girl children in Daddy’s bloodline. He was set on Clothilde for Phyllis, his first born daughter. Normally, Mother acquiesced to Daddy in most things, but this time she put her foot down. No Clothilde!!!!! Daddy contented himself with naming the baby “Phyllis,” after an old girlfriend holding Clothilde in reserve for the next daughter. Three years later, I came along. “Clothilde” was the first word out of his mouth when he saw me. Thank God, Mother didn’t die in childbirth. Again, Mother stuck to her guns, so I got Linda. Daughter number three might have been his last chance. Even though Mother had had a long and difficult labor, she rose from her childbed, vanquished Clothilde, and named the baby Connie. Not expecting another opportunity, he lost hope. A little more than a year later, his fourth and last daughter joined the family. Hopefully, he asked Mother, “You wouldn’t want to name her Clothilde, would you?” Her name is Marilyn.   We thought that was the end of the story. Recently, my brother’s oldest daughter revealed the final chapter. “Mom told me something funny. When she was pregnant, Papa asked her to name me Clothilde.”