The Man just posted episode 9 of his column “Oh, Christmas Pineapple!” and it reminded me of this classic high school story…
On Christmas Eve Day one time when I was about 16, my friend and I decided to ruin Christmas for a stranger. Noble goal, I know. And it turns out it's easier than you think. Read on.
The way it started out, our plan was to totally give someone the shaft. As we marinated on that plan, we realized we could do exactly that. So we went to the only grocery store open on Christmas Eve Day, bought the biggest pineapple we could, came home and spent a solid hour carving out a gigantic, spectacular pineapple penis.
Later that evening, around 7, we drove back to the same grocery store and waited for the perfect candidate to present our gift to. Basically, we were looking for the loneliest guy possible so we could break him (emotionally, not with the penis). Our criteria were along the lines of: a man in his 40's or 50's, an older model car, a poor dresser (possibly bad hygiene, but not homeless), an unconfident walk, and a somber expression.
After about an hour without finding the perfect candidate (there weren't many customers around), we began to give up hope. Then, finally, about a half hour before store close on Christmas Eve (the loneliest time possible to buy groceries), we spotted him: a 51-ish-year-old man with an overgrown beard, an untucked flannel shirt and khakis with tennis shoes, driving a 1981-ish maroon Buick. Our excitement was uncontrollable.
After the man parked and went inside, we walked over to his car and placed the pineapple penis directly in the middle of his windshield (juices still dripping) along with the note: “YOU GOT THE SHAFT FOR CHRISTMAS!!! AHAHAHAHA” We then parked about 75 yards away in the parking lot (in front of other closed stores) and waited patiently.
About 20 minutes later he came out. The anticipation was killing us. Would he cry himself to sleep later? Brush it aside and laugh at a stupid joke? Come looking for the perpetrators?? We leaned our seats back as he got closer.
As he glimpsed the gift from about 15 yards away, his paced slowed. When he got to the windshield and realized it was a penis, he put all of his grocery bags down on the ground.
Then he read the note.
Ho-ly shit. This guy was fucking FURIOUS!!! He started yelling and cussing and then he took the penis and smashed it on the ground and began stomping on it! Then he kicked the remains across the parking lot in a rage!! HE KICKED A PINEAPPLE PENIS!!
At this point we were doubled over with laughter. The kind of laughter where noise doesn't even come out anymore, only tears of Christmas joy.
As our laughter subsided and we thought the fun was coming to a close, he lingered outside his car. Only now he had his hands on his knees, like he was thinking about how this might be the lowest point in his life. We thought he might even be crying.
Then, suddenly, he stood up straight and started looking around. It was like a bell went off that the people who did this were probably looking on. We immediately leaned all the way back in our seats; he was inspecting every parked car for signs of life. Next thing we knew, he was staring straight in our direction. My tinted windows probably didn't help our presumption of innocence.
Now we were starting to get scared. My heart started beating faster and our last gasp at another penis joke fell flat. As I started to get my keys ready to leave, the guy walked directly to his trunk, WITHOUT HIS GROCERIES.
As he opened the trunk, I started the car. He immediately turned around for a brief second to look at us, then pulled a long plastic case out of the trunk.
My friend yelled, “GO GO GO! HE'S GOT A GUN!!”
I tried to peel out of the parking lot so fast that I stalled the car. As I turned it off and tried to start it again, I literally thought this might be our last Christmas Eve. My tombstone could read something like, “You live by the penis, you die by the penis.” The only thing we had going for us was that my 1990 Honda Accord could probably outpace his '81 Buick LaCrapper.
Finally, the car started again. The Buick left the lot at almost exactly the same time we did. We had a 75 yard advantage and I made sure I increased that margin until we were halfway across town with no sign of danger.
So this Christmas, just remember, even if you don't get what you want, at least you didn't get the shaft!