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ever one thought going on in my head. Like I was some kind of stupid baby.
    I wasn’t.
    Every time we went to the library I picked out prank books. Though most of those proved lamed. There were nuggets of ideas. Though many, like a bucket over the door were too broad to get away with. There were other things in the books that would prove annoying to Jenny and Rebecca and left less evidence.
    For a week straight, I mismatched all their socks. By the end of the week Rebecca yelled at my mom for doing laundry wrong and got an hour of time out.
    Any obvious prank would lead them back to us, and of course give them plenty of evidence to tattle. But we did manage to catch a honeybee. I stuck it in her shoe and put a sock in there to keep the bee in. But the bee must’ve died before Jenny got a chance to get stung.
    There were other failures.
    We read that a great prank was to set and alarm in the middle of the day, and when it went off, dash out of the room like there was something important to do.  It was funny the first two times, but Jenny never seemed to care what we were up to. So then we started setting the alarm and ignoring it. That did get a rise out of her, but then the alarm clock disappeared.
    Devin then directed my research towards books on trapping game. Acquiring an old rusty bear trap would prove near impossible, but the book skipped such technology and instead focused on pits filled with sharpened sticks and trip wires. We thought if we caught Jenny in one, then my parents might believe the trap was made by Native Americans hundreds of years ago rather than by two kids. It was sound in our childish logic.
    In the woods after school, we made the traps. We intended to catch one of the MacGregor’s’ cats, but they proved too smart. Eventually, we caught a possum, which thought he could just play dead until it was actually dead.  Devin refused to let him out of the trap and not long after he began to stink. You could almost smell him up at the house if the breeze was right. It was an awful putrid smell. If you got a strong whiff of it, it was like someone vomiting in your nostrils.
    I took great pleasure in seeing Rebecca and Jenny make the mistake of taking a deep breath. It was almost worth having to smell it myself.
    Soon, the possum was a sight of maggots and tiny bones that weaved out of puffs of fur, resembling cotton straight from the field more than the fur of an animal.  Any other fur had gone from the grayish white to the tan and yellow, wet and matted.  The possum’s eyes sank in and two slits seemed desperate to shut, but I could see the blackness down within them.  It took a long time for the possum to decompose.
    Its bones were tiny.
    We knew better than to touch it. Devin reminded me that we would get sick if we played with dead things. A burial was out of the question, however we would giggle at the thought of putting the carcass in Jenny’s pillow. We’d take turns playing out her reaction, trying to outdo each other in our mockery.
    We built on each other’s ideas, tacking on another funny moment. From her peeing herself to tripping over a toy car, which sent her flipping onto her back where her little needle kit she stole from mom would be laying. Ouch!  And then because she peed, it got on her homework and she gets kicked out of school for peeing on her assignment and is forced to become a homeless woman who pushes cans in a shopping cart, but the cans are filled with bees and the wheels of the shopping cart fall off and it crashes and all the bees attack her. They chase her for many, many miles and she’s so thirsty from all her running that she mistakenly grabbed a can of gasoline and drank it. And it just so happened it was her birthday and mom and dad tried to be nice to her and gave her a cake. Then she blew out the candles and her whole face burned off. There was no water around anywhere so my parents had to pee on her to save her.
    I laughed so hard that I cried. 
    That was