End of an Era (?)
My brother was the king of the prank calls. As early as 1979, a then 8 year-old Nano would huddle by a phone on Thanksgiving night, dial a number at random and query:
"Why do you smell like turkey?"
A series of stifled snickers would follow each successive call.
I never had his gift. When I was working at a "One Hour Photo Lab" in 1992 he stumped me with the following:
Prego: Prints Charming*
'Caller': Um... Do you guys do enlargements?
Prego: Yes we do.
'Caller': Good, because I have a really small penis and...
* (Actual f*cking name of the place)
Subtlety was the key, as was being able to disguise the voice to avoid detection. I managed to emulate his genius on his ex-wife on one occasion.
Prego: (exaggerated, effeminate enunciation) Is Nano there?
Mrs. Nano: No he's not.
Prego: Well, like this is Steffon, and he left his t-shirt in my apartment last night...
Mrs. Nano: Who is this?
Prego: Steffon. Oh and I washed his boxers, too.
Mrs. Nano: Uh...
Prego: Pfffffrtttttt! Haw haw haw haw haw....
Yeah, those were the days. Now that Caller ID is readily available and anonymity is reserved solely for rape trials, Prince Albert remains in the can and the refrigerator shan't be chased again. Technology has cheated the next generation of a coming of age ritual. O-Dog and the Fletch-monster will never be able to pull off the classic:
"Yeah. Mrs. Whitney? This is DeAundre Tillman - Mr. Whitney's son? My mom says your husband ain't sending her the child support payments for me."
(Click. Dial tone....)