Call up an ex-girlfriend living 800 miles away, inform her I haven’t ever stopped thinking about her, in fact, I think we were born for each other, then tell her I was moving to town to try to win her back. Wait for her response, then say, “APRIL FOOL’S,” then quickly hang up before she has a chance to get in any good zingers.
Write a long email to my parents detailing all the parental errors and omissions they are guilty of corresponding to my current woes, like “And I believe it was your insistence on buttering my toast until I was 17 that actually led to my 3-month psychotherapy sessions last year that resulted in me losing close to $1,000 and a debilitating addiction to cough syrup,” then hit return like 14 times, decrease the font size, and in all caps, write, “JUST KIDDING, APRIL FOOL’S.”
Go to a coffee shop, try paying for my scone and juice drink with my debit card, when it doesn’t work, exclaim, “Ha, suckers! Joke’s on you! April Fool’s!” then run out to car and search desperately for coins in my glove compartment. Drive away surreptitiously if necessary.
Admit to my best friends that I think we’ve grown apart, and maybe it’s best if we just see each other at weddings and their upcoming baby shower. Then, weakly, as if I don’t even mean it anymore, squeak out, “April Fool’s” and shrug my shoulders.
Go to confession, detail in gritty, honest language my faults as a human—going for rides in backs of cop cars, puking in random stranger’s sinks, ignoring pregnant women as they stumble next to me down flights of stairs—and then sob “April Fool’s” and scamper out curtains.
Sit in my own room, half-naked, typing on a laptop, with 2-week old unwashed dishes in sink, broke, alone, living in a backwater town, and say aloud to yourself, as if in capsulating detail about your life up to this point, “April Fool’s, right!? Right?!” Repeat the phrase over and over again. Till April 2nd hits. Then dry your eyes and make yourself some toast, wash the dishes, don’t apologize for shit, etc.
Photo courtesy Greggconnell