My friend Jon text messaged me a couple of days ago because he was hanging out with an old friend from college named Abigail. He reminded me of a prank I played on her probably around 6 or 7 years ago: Abigail was a senior, and I was working for the university in an academic advising capacity. I knew that she went to some "alternative" high school in the Bay Area that had strange classes and no grades, and I was intrigued enough to order her transcript to take a look. Sure enough, there was some weird stuff on there, and perfect for a little prank.
I typed out a letter from the college, and apparently not thinking at all about my job security, printed it on the official letterhead. In it, I told her that the Office of the Registrar looked over her high school transcript, and unfortunately, she could not receive credit for the Ornithology class she took. Even though she was a senior and very close to graduation, they had to retroactively revoke her admission. Fortunately, I wrote it in a way that she knew immediately that it wasn't real, and she thought it was very funny. It came up when they were hanging out this week, and I'm glad Jon reminded me of it because I'd almost entirely forgotten.
It got me thinking (uh oh) about other somewhat-similar things I've done in the past. One story immediately came to mind. During my time working at the university, a student named Tricia worked for me for a couple of years. At one point, the topic of imaginary friends came up. (I'll address my own at a later date, I promise.) Tricia told us that the person she created was not just an imaginary friend, but an imaginary husband named Booyah. One day, Booyah said he was going to the market, and he never came home. Tricia's a warm and kind person, so naturally I couldn't wait to use that against her.
Over a year later, I got an idea. Neither of us had mentioned Booyah for months and months, so the timing was perfect. I created a new email account (booyahjohnson@(something).com) and sent her an "I'm Sorry" e-card. It was a wonderfully cheesy card, designed to help someone apologize for some horrible thing he or she had done. In the e-card, I typed something to the effect of:
"My darling Patricia,
I can not apologize enough for not returning from the market that day so long ago. As I examined my life, I felt...well, trapped I guess. I know it wasn't the right decision, and I've never forgiven myself for the pain I must have caused you. I can only hope that you find it in that big heart of yours to give me another chance to be a part of your life.
Your loving husband,
Booyah Johnson"
I got a call from her right after she read it. "Peter," she said, "I just got a very troubling e-card." I cut her off, "Listen Tricia. Booyah contacted me and asked if he could have your email address. I'm sorry I didn't run it by you first, but he seemed so sad and genuinely remorseful." "That was a long time ago, Peter," she said quietly and totally in character, "a long, long time ago."
Every so often after that, I'd tell her that Booyah called me again to see if I could help them reconnect. Every time, her response was the same: She'd shake her head and tell me in the tone of someone who has learned from past, heart-wrenching mistakes, "That part of my life is over, Peter."
Even though there doesn't seem to be any hope of Tricia and Booyah reconciling, I'm doing my part to keep his imaginary spirit alive. There are certain situations, often involving sporting or gambling, in which someone might yell either "Booyah shaka!" or a la Ali G, "Booyah kasha!" I've taken to yelling "Booyah Johnson" in those situations, often to the confusion of those around me. In addition, if I'm writing into an online chat and trying to get my question noticed, I sometimes use his name as an alias. It hasn't worked yet, but it's only a matter of time.
I typed out a letter from the college, and apparently not thinking at all about my job security, printed it on the official letterhead. In it, I told her that the Office of the Registrar looked over her high school transcript, and unfortunately, she could not receive credit for the Ornithology class she took. Even though she was a senior and very close to graduation, they had to retroactively revoke her admission. Fortunately, I wrote it in a way that she knew immediately that it wasn't real, and she thought it was very funny. It came up when they were hanging out this week, and I'm glad Jon reminded me of it because I'd almost entirely forgotten.
It got me thinking (uh oh) about other somewhat-similar things I've done in the past. One story immediately came to mind. During my time working at the university, a student named Tricia worked for me for a couple of years. At one point, the topic of imaginary friends came up. (I'll address my own at a later date, I promise.) Tricia told us that the person she created was not just an imaginary friend, but an imaginary husband named Booyah. One day, Booyah said he was going to the market, and he never came home. Tricia's a warm and kind person, so naturally I couldn't wait to use that against her.
Over a year later, I got an idea. Neither of us had mentioned Booyah for months and months, so the timing was perfect. I created a new email account (booyahjohnson@(something).com) and sent her an "I'm Sorry" e-card. It was a wonderfully cheesy card, designed to help someone apologize for some horrible thing he or she had done. In the e-card, I typed something to the effect of:
"My darling Patricia,
I can not apologize enough for not returning from the market that day so long ago. As I examined my life, I felt...well, trapped I guess. I know it wasn't the right decision, and I've never forgiven myself for the pain I must have caused you. I can only hope that you find it in that big heart of yours to give me another chance to be a part of your life.
Your loving husband,
Booyah Johnson"
I got a call from her right after she read it. "Peter," she said, "I just got a very troubling e-card." I cut her off, "Listen Tricia. Booyah contacted me and asked if he could have your email address. I'm sorry I didn't run it by you first, but he seemed so sad and genuinely remorseful." "That was a long time ago, Peter," she said quietly and totally in character, "a long, long time ago."
Every so often after that, I'd tell her that Booyah called me again to see if I could help them reconnect. Every time, her response was the same: She'd shake her head and tell me in the tone of someone who has learned from past, heart-wrenching mistakes, "That part of my life is over, Peter."
Even though there doesn't seem to be any hope of Tricia and Booyah reconciling, I'm doing my part to keep his imaginary spirit alive. There are certain situations, often involving sporting or gambling, in which someone might yell either "Booyah shaka!" or a la Ali G, "Booyah kasha!" I've taken to yelling "Booyah Johnson" in those situations, often to the confusion of those around me. In addition, if I'm writing into an online chat and trying to get my question noticed, I sometimes use his name as an alias. It hasn't worked yet, but it's only a matter of time.
Speaking of time, I must be off to do today's real work. Have a great Thursday, gentle readers, and tune in for tomorrow's FUF piece.
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