Wednesday, January 28, 2004

Guess how many ping pong balls.

"Where did you work before here?" Evan lit Colby's cigarette as the door eased shut. Abe sat down against the wall.

Colby squinted in the light, casting a sneer that may have been his crooked-toothed version of a grin. "I am not at liberty to say."

"Huh. Maybe we don't want to know. Harrassment, fraud something like that?"

"April Fool's prank." The sneer was definitely a grin.

"No kidding." Then Abe's jaw dropped. "Wait... 'Guess how many ping pong balls?'"

Colby was suddenly interested in tbe power lines running across the street.

"Jesus," Abe squeaked. "That was you?" Colby's gaze shifted to the northbound traffic.

Evan was almost panting. "What? What what what? Tell me!"



Abe turned to Evan. "Okay, I heard this story, I assumed it was... a story. In the lobby of some bank's corporate headquarters, on April Fool's Day morning, there's this huge crate hanging from the rafters. High ceiling, far from the stairs, would have taken a forklift to get it up there. There are hinges on the bottom edges, like it's ready to drop a whole lot of something.
"Under the crate is a digital timer on a little stand, counting down to noontime. Next to it is a sign that says 'Guess how many ping pong balls.'
"As the morning goes on, everyone in the office is talking about it, and they keep gathering in the lobby to stare at this huge crate. It's gotta be big enough to hold tens of thousands of ping pong balls, and everyone's laughing at the thought of an avalanche over the receptionist's desk, flowing out into the street.
"People start taking bets, and a lot of people are betting 'zero', figuring that's the obvious April Fool's joke. But nobody knows, and it's getting closer to noon. Anticipation builds.
"Around eleven one of the employees shows up late. When he sees what's going on he gets all shaky and pulls someone aside. He tells them he's seen this before. At his last company, he says, somebody set up this prank with himself in the crate, then committed suicide. At noon the body dumped onto the floor in front of the entire office.
"The guy telling this story leaves, shaken. His story makes the rounds. People start to get uneasy. They stop making bets. As noon approaches, everyone's heard the story, and still nobody can keep their eyes off the crate.
"But nobody thinks it's funny any more. The head of security starts thinking they should take this thing down, but by now it's almost noon. As the last seconds tick away, everybody gathers at the perimeter of the lobby, keeping their distance from the center.
"At noon the timer beeps, and something in the crate clicks."
As Abe paused for dramatic effect, Evan held his breath, wide-eyed. Colby just stared into the distance, trying to suppress a grin.
"The bottom swings open, and a cloud of paper drifts to the floor. It's all coupons for ten dollars off a new set of tires at a local tire shop. Limit one per customer."
Evan tilted his head. "Huh?"
Abe continued. "Everybody's so relieved there's no dead body, it takes a couple minutes for them to catch on. But then they go outside, and in the parking lot every tire of every car has been slashed."
Evan turned to Colby, who was outwardly grinning by now.
"You... You did that?"
"I am not at liberty to say." Colby snuffed his cigarette against the wall, leaving an ugly mark.
"I can't imagine that went over well. Did they press charges?"
"I am not at liberty to say."
Evan stammered, "But, but... Why?"
"They pissed me off."
Opening the door, Abe snorted "Remind me not to piss you off."
"Don't piss me off."

5 comments:

  1. Ooh! I like it.
    Some sort of hint-in-retrospect that the shaky employee talking about the suicide was Colby would be nice. Not sure how you'd do it, though.

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  2. > Some sort of hint-in-retrospect that the shaky employee talking about
    > the suicide was Colby would be nice. Not sure how you'd do it, though.
    Yeah, I struggled with that for a bit, and couldn't think of a way to make it work. Colby's just not the kind of guy to go all Murder-She-Wrote. ("Yes, I did it, and now I'll explain my crime in intimate detail for no apparent reason.")
    Maybe this would be enough: "The guy telling this story heads out to the parking lot, shaken." Then when I mention the parking lot again later, the connection might be more obvious.

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  3. > Yeah, I struggled with that for a bit, and couldn't think of a way
    > to make it work. Colby's just not the kind of guy to go all
    > Murder-She-Wrote.
    Sure, but Colby's not the one telling the story.
    Your suggested solution works nicely.

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  4. Maybe the late employee walks in picking his teeth with a 10 inch switchblade. Drops a nice subtle hint, and makes the employee being shakey even more interesting, or bloody, I'm not sure which.
    By the way, Tom, sometimes I worry about you...

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  5. I was half expecting a single crate-sized ping-pong ball to fall out. And then crush someone. Heh-heh, one ping-pong ball. (Good story!)

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