Flip Your Wig Across The Universe

-The Beatles famed Flip Your Wig Game

I recently played a practical joke on someone at work, a voiceover gag that exponentially ensnared time and resources of an entire office of personnel. It’s outcome reminded me of a prank gone awry many years ago.

Long before stalking laws existed, I played the part of a teenage fool. In the late 1970’s, I worked on a paint crew where I came to know a wayward individual named Trevor Albert. When I get to know people, I am a bridge builder of common denominators and my keen memory serves me well. Two years my junior, Trevor’s sense of humor and willingness to go out of his way to play practical jokes ultimately bonded us together. Maybe I sniffed too many paint fumes but he talked me into doing something that I am still ashamed to admit.

Trevor hatched a plan to revenge an old girlfriend’s scorn. He solicited my help and I obliged as long as nobody would get hurt. Over the course of the next several weeks, Trevor spoon-fed me detailed personal information about a sweet sixteen-year-old girl named Donna. I absorbed everything about Donna: where she shopped, her favorite foods and restaurants, nuances about her daily routine, her favorite color, the names of her friends, cool hangouts, her school subjects, what her parents did for a living, where they enjoyed summer vacations and on and on about her favorite rock band, The Beatles. When I could weave a heartfelt homespun story from my memory bank about a girl I had never met before, the joke spun into scary motion.

Call it devil’s intervention, but I came into possession of an authentic Beatles Flip Your Wig board game in excellent condition containing all of the original pieces. The Fab Four had no idea who their new owner would be. Trevor asked me to pretend I was Donna’s secret admirer and go to her house bearing the cardboard gift of John, Paul, George, and Ringo. I followed the handwritten directions to her house and parked at the curb after school one day before her parents were due home from work. I walked up the driveway carrying a professional gift-wrapped present complete with a red bow. A girl resembling Donna’s description answered the front door of the bi-level home wedged in middle class America.

I greeted her with an assuming confident smile. “Hello, Donna.”

She asked, “Who are you?”

“My name is not important at this time but I will say that I am your secret admirer. I have been following you around all summer. Donna, I am in love with you. As a gesture of my deep affection, I present to you a gift that only a true admirer could give you.”

Donna stood there weak-kneed and stunned inside the door. She knew better than to invite me inside but her peaked curiosity would not let her end the emotionally-driven conversation. She looked over my shoulder at my idle car then her eyes swept the neighborhood for clues and trouble. I outstretched my hands offering up the colorfully wrapped gift. Donna swung the door open and grabbed the gift. She gently shook it then looked back at me with detective eyes.

She instructed, “Wait here.”

At this point of my dimwitted prank, my cranial gray matter realized she could be calling the police about the certifiable stalker at her doorstep. My flittering nerves wanted to bolt across the lawn and drive off never looking back but the burgeoning actor in me wanted to see this thing through. Alas, through a side panel window left of the front door, I could see her opening my gift sitting on a lower staircase step. She acted incredulously happy about the gift and opened the front door with a softer receptive stance.

“Okay, I give up. How did you know I am nuts over The Beatles?”

It was time for the hook, the twist that would make her flip her wig. I explained, “Donna, I know everything about you. You went shopping two nights ago and bought a new blouse. I would have bought that blouse for you. Your favorite colors are pastel and for that reason, you love the Easter holiday. Your birthday is September 24th and I already picked out your gift. You are going to be seventeen this year. You like to talk on the telephone to your friends after dark….”

She yelled, “Stop it!” Elevated to primal fear and not knowing what to make of me, Donna screamed then ordered me to leave the premises before slamming the door. I left before the police could arrive.

Not too long ago, some twenty-five years after the fact, an ad in the classified section of the newspaper attracted my attention. A memorabilia collector offered to pay $1000.00 for a complete Beatles Flip Your Wig game, regardless of condition. I am not sure if Donna saw the ad because the most elaborate time consuming joke that I ever played on someone turned out to still bear a price on me. In the end, there is a price to pay for everything in life. Now I have never stalked anyone in my life but pretending to do so convincingly might be fine acting but it is no frigging joke.