An Open Letter to the Prankster(s) Who Stuck 300 Pieces of Plastic Cutlery in My Yard Last Night

Dear Prankster(s): Well played. This morning when I ventured out to get my newspaper, I was greeted by quite the sight in my front yard. Was it two 150-piece variety packs of plastic cutlery? That’s what it appeared to me. Knives, forks, spoons — all stuck handles down in the grass. Which, by the way, I would like to apologize for the length of same. I’ve been remiss in my mowing duties. The length of the grass robbed your prank of some of its visual impact. You deserved better.

And here I will address the most likely culprits.

JC, if it was you, I’m disappointed. After all the late-night sorties we’ve launched over the years, I would have expected more effort. What? No flour? No birdseed? No feral pig staked to the center of the yard?

AM, if it was you, then I guess we are even. I should be thankful, I suppose, that you didn’t enlist the help of JC, who would have taken the prank to the next level.

EC, if it was you, I’m actually a bit taken aback, as I fed you dinner last night. Is that how you show your thanks? If so, again, well played.

EL, if it was you, please understand that my greatest joy in life is to crush my enemies, to see them driven before me, and to hear the lamentation of their women. You will pay dearly.

MH, if it was you, for your sake, I hope you’re armed.

WA, if it was you, your mischievous sense of humor is why I regularly tell people that I have the best boss in town.


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23 responses to “An Open Letter to the Prankster(s) Who Stuck 300 Pieces of Plastic Cutlery in My Yard Last Night”

  1. china says:

    wow, That is a healthy list.

  2. Bethany says:

    I haven’t done that since junior high. By high school, I had graduated to tire removal, and wiring car horns to blinkers.

  3. Zach in NY says:

    Can’t wait until I move back.

  4. amanda says:

    I’m crushed I wasn’t on the list. Fork off.

  5. More Kunkle Bell says:

    I truly believe that. Get a life.

  6. SLR says:

    I think each white utensil signifies the grave stone of one of your stillborn jokes.

  7. neoCarla says:

    I didn’t mean to laugh too hard at the photo, but what on earth have you done to deserve this. Please entertain us with the mischief you’ve done. 🙂

    By the way, it’s good that you haven’t pissed off anyone too bad to do this, This is a car in the parking garage of my apartment building.

  8. Bill Marvel says:

    No need to evoke “outside forces” to explain the appearance of your lawn.
    Under favorable conditions blades of grass will undergo selective mutation and evolve into more complex forms. Credulous and superstitious folks ascribe these to the creative intervention of a Higher Power. But scientific surveys of ill-kept lawns have turned up evidence of intermediate forms — “missing links,” such as bottle caps and pop tops — and even of more highly evolved organisms, for example, plastic flamingos and lawn jockeys.

  9. muleshoe says:

    time consuming, easy clean-up…no damage? my conclusion this was the work of a female.

    On the other hand, when you fed EC last night, you did provide forks and spoons, right?

  10. DM says:

    Oh, and here I thought I had *dreamed* doing that. I need to back off the Pinot Grigio on the weekends.

  11. Brian says:

    I am so glad i dont have a lawn.

  12. AM says:

    It was not me.
    We are not even.

  13. Steve says:

    You’re all set for the next picnic.

  14. Nate says:

    Last year Tim hosted a picnic that was literally dead. No one showed up. Dejected, Tim didn’t clean anything up, so all of the plastic dinnerware blew off the table and landed on the grass. Over time, the plastic decomposed, but with the recent rains and plenty of BS that he was spewing, his lawn began springing up new plastic ware. Right now, he has the variety saved for public schools and corporate breakrooms. With a little more time and extra fertilization (from his articles and blogging), they’ll mature into the good kind of plastic ware that doesn’t bend in half without breaking.

  15. James says:

    There is only one thing that comes to mind….”Burn B#$%* Burn”

  16. Bethany says:

    Whoever did it didn’t do it correctly, either.

    You’re supposed to spell out a message with the cutlery, and should only be forks.

    Also, if you’re going to TP someone’s house, you need to use the cheap stuff, a) it produces this delightful paper maiche effect after rain and b)it’s lighter, and more aerodynamic than the more expensive Charmin or Cottonelle, thereby producing a more effective throw.

    Not that I have ever done ANY of that.

  17. mm says:

    Kudos for “my greatest joy in life is to crush my enemies, to see them driven before me, and to hear the lamentation of their women”. I’m still laughing.

  18. tc says:

    I was wondering where I left my spork.

  19. Don in Austin says:

    Just adding that for extra added persistance of the paper maiche effect, go for the live oak trees. IJS.

  20. JH says:

    Bethany, if you really want to up the ante you TP someone’s house with their own toilet paper.

    The devil’s in the details, but it’s great when the papered person realizes that not only do they have to clean up the mess, but they also have to buy more TP.

  21. Bethany says:

    Ooh…good point, JH. It’s like soaping their fountain, but using their detergent to do it.

    Not that I’ve done that, either.

    Note to self: Tim wants a feral pig in his yard, equidistant from the street and the front door.

  22. JH says:

    As long as we’re talking pranks, the best I have ever heard or witnessed was done by my brother.

    In high school he used instant tea packets to turn a family’s pool into a giant glass of Crystal Lite Iced Tea.

  23. Oh My Eyes says:

    I may know where said feral hog can be obtained…. either live or dead.

    True story.

    When we moved out to the country, my ‘neighbor”, (who lives just 3/4 of a mile down the road), left us a special gift.

    He dropped off a freshly killed feral pig in the front yard, and shouted “Welcome to the neighborhood! I’d help you cut it up, but I have others to deliver. See you later!”. He then started up his golf cart-like truck, and drove off.

    I was shocked/horrified/disgusted.

    The current Mr Oh My Eyes grabbed it up, hung it from a tree by it’s hind feet… and proceeded to butcher it.

    And to keep it steady while cutting it, and peeling off the skin… he made me hold the pig by the little hoofies, so that it would not spin around.

    I squealed more during the next thirty minutes than that pig ever did throughout it’s entire life….

    I gagged as I clutched the feet… and transfered the cut parts to a basin to clean them before preparing them for future meals.

    And after the process was over, I learned the definition of “Country Fast Food”.

    It is when you put the rest of the carcass on the back of a hay trailer… and drive it off to dump it. I promise you, the sight of watching every dog for a one mile radius chasing that trailer down a gravel road.

    And it will make you laugh like there is no tomorrow.