Did you know that April 1st is called April Fish Day in France? Actually, les French prefer to call it poisson d'Avril ... good thing we're in America where we don't speak French or, as George W. Bush would call it: the Freedom language. Enough about the f-word, comrades, let's talk fools.
The celebration of the April fool is surely not a holiday to be taken lightly. This year's prank struck such a delicate balance of senseless tomfoolery and wily cunning that it ceased to be a practical joke and metamorphosed into the stunning and flamboyant mono-horned creature that is called the unicorn. Oh, tender horse who flies and has one horn, take note of the modest tale that is about to be divulged.
A crush: the glorious and divinely perverse infatuation of one buffalo with another. Bill Clinton had one on tender Hillary, Joan Crawford on Clark Gable and even friendly Genghis Khan on all the ladies of Mongolia. It just so happens that a dear friend of ours has a little crush of her own. Who is this lucky fellow, you wonder, who is the object of such obsessive and unrestrained affections? Let's just say that he's quite the stud.
You may recognize him yourself, gentle reader. He always sat toward the front of Physics 151 last semester. He often sported a dreamy R.O.T.C. uniform. I'm not going to reveal his name because that would not be suitable, but I'll tell you this much: he fancies strutting around campus in his boxers!
Now, now, friends, the cat has yet to be let out of the bag. Don't think you're going to get away with finishing this article when it's clearly only halfway through. For a trick to come satisfactorily to fruition, the April fool must be confronted simultaneously by a shocking and compelling hysteria, and the onset of a subtly mortifying and all-consuming shame. Thus stood our feat.
A "diversion" was created with the artifice of a scheming Nazi while the fool's spoils (R.O.T.C. boy) slyly and supply meandered his way into our apartment. From there, he stripped down to his elements -- and by elements, we clearly mean knickerbockers. To pass the time until our unwitting April fool returned from her "diversion," R.O.T.C. boy entertained the pack of us with his navy-related charms and one-armed pushup thrusts.
The instant of culmination is scarcely something to be described with words. Our fool drew closer to her prank like a tender rooster to the farmer's axe. "What's going on, guys," she inquired. "Why is everybody laughing -- AGH!" The moment dawned, at last, of mirthful frenzy and unremitting hilarity. We reveled in the shame that our happy trick induced and supped on the rare and saintly moment's splendors like the Olympus gods on their nectar.
What exactly had transpired to prompt a climax so divine? Our friend, a simple girl, had a crush. How could she have conceived that this crush would bid her fall victim to the holiday of fools? There before her lay the boy she had so long silently admired, upon her bed, in the flimsiest of blue boxer shorts. Comrades, I will share with you the words that issued forth from our cruel lips so that you may understand what we, upon that moment, knew: "April fool's, mothafuckah"
