My doper/drunk costume, including blue granny glasses, my worst paint stained, frayed, too-long jeans with holes in the knees, a tie-dyed t-shirt, scrubby looking, fringed blue jean jacket with the sleeves cut off and frayed into a scummy biker's vest, hideously abused and worn out over-dead earthshoes, faux curly hair, mid-back length wig exploding from underneath an oil stained engineer's cap, accessorised with a half bottle of Jack (filled with tea, for slugging) looking prop.
I am going to gag my buddy into thinking that a drunk has stumbled into their equipment set-up at the club they will play at, later in the evening. I am heading over there to help him get the new boxes set up with his existing gear. I know he knows how to operate his system spectrum analyser and related equalization devices, but my ears are many orders of magnitude beyond his for detecting subtleties of phase and various acoustical anomalies and I want him to be pleased with his investment on the first night. They are already broken-in, so predictability will be easy for me.
I'm going to get him good! I owe him a gag from a while back when he got me!
That sounds really funny. I hope it works.
It was hilarious!
I managed to keep up the joke for about thirty seconds, which was actually about three times longer than I had expected.
As I slipped into the club, the drummer looked up from his toil in the back of the room and yelled at me, so I slurred that I had to piss and headed towards the john, staggering and swigging on the bottle. They could only see my back.
What I did not know was that the bartender saw me, freaked out and ducked down behind the bar so he could hide and hit the "emergency button" which summoned the cops. All the band members were after me by then, yelling, and I started playing air microphone with the bottle and singing to the song on the jukebox ... "I'm On The Highway To Hell" ... fucking perfect!
I was sort of dancing like a drunk and swinging the hair around, but I got one look at the bartender's terrified face, all the band members' extremely pissed off faces as they had just recognized me and began to soften a bit and I totally lost my character. I started laughing, kind of a fake rub-it-in laugh and so did my friends, but the bartender started getting really mad and told me that the cops were coming to take me to jail. WTF?
So, it seems I committed a genuine crime, by re-using a federally taxed bottle and bringing it into an establishment that sold alcohol was an even greater and separate crime. The cops really did show up fast, but I had taken the bottle to the dumpster and gotten out of the hat/wig and the vest and put on a normal cotton shirt. Everyone was still laughing and playing with the wig when the cops got there, except the bartender.
Cops just shook their heads and gave us that "Stupid rednecks!" look. The only bad thing was that the scared-shitless goofball has hit the security button too many times this month for a false alarm and the club will have to pay an extra fee of fifteen bucks to the company that monitors his alarm system, which my buddy said he would gladly pay, because they all needed a laugh. How did we know about the fee and the cost? The bartender has hit the emergency button for a false alarm too many times for the past four months in a row and is getting in trouble about it, now.
So, my stupid joke was not totally harmless to everyone. Oops! I feel a little bad for the kneeknocking bartender underling.
