Frame: This is the Spring of '04 or even '03 but that's not important, when Tim and I were being the two worst people on Earth to one gentle soul named Steve. 80% of the shit we did was aimed to just fuck with him. We wanted a bitch. We chose him. He declined. We tried anyway. We probably owe Steve an apology for all the bad shit we have done to him over the years, but the shit we did to him was just too funny to be sorry about. Anyway, here goes.
One weekend, Steve had a confirmation retreat out in Palm Springs, where they stayed at some hotel/resort. Being that Tim and I had trouble, at the time and still do, with Lutheranism as a religion (and just about anything that wasn't Catholicism or our personal favorite "The Drum Religion"), we planned to do something awful to him. But we had no idea what to do.
We told him that we were going to come visit him at the retreat and perform emergency baptisms on all the pagans. We would save them, we told him. He kept his phone on so we could call him and keep him entertained.
Tim and I spent a long evening on Friday spent pondering in the jacuzzi. Saturday was free, but there was no way we were going to drive 50 miles just to yell obscenities at Lutherans, especially because a Mormon Temple is just down the street from Tim.
After our sleepover, Tim and I moved our plotting over to his house. We were sitting in his living room when it hit me.
"Call Steve," I said.
"Alright. Why?" Tim asked, knowing that he wasn't going to get an answer–it's more fun that way. "Well, what do you want me to tell him?"
Phone ringing.
"Ask him where they are staying."
Tim asks. "The (name I forgot) hotel."
"Ask what room number."
Steve wants to know why.
"We want to visit you," Tim lies.
Steve bites and gives up his room number. He's excited to see us–Dumbass.
"What city is that?"
Palm Springs. Perfect.
"Thanks Steve, we will be there in an hour, we just mapquested it," Tim hangs up.
"He said that they are about to eat lunch."
While this conversation is going on, I have been busy at the computer.
"I wonder if Steve is hungry?" I ask.
"Pizza?" Tim knows.
"Oh, yeah."
So we order one medium pepperoni pizza to Steve's room from Domino's. Thank you that will be $12.88 in cash and your pizza will be there in a half hour, Mr. Bridge.
We wait. We high five each other. We are laughing hysterically thinking of how fucked up we are.
Then 10 minutes later, one of us gets the brilliant idea that one pizza isn't enough. How rude of us to forget about all of the other confirmation campers, they probably like pizza too. So this time we hit up Nick's pizza or some mom and pop shop like that for one more pep pizza. It'll get there in 45 minutes.
Time passes and Tim and I can barely hold it together waiting for the call back.
It comes.
"YOU MOTHERFUCKERS! YOU ARE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS PIZZA! WE JUST ATE PIZZA AT LUNCH! GOD DAMMIT. FUCK YOU GUYS. YOU ASSHOLES! I DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY WITH ME! MY LEADERS HAD TO PAY FOR THE PIZZA!" As you can imagine Steve is rather upset.
But I hold it together. It wasn't us, I tell him. We swear. I am dying inside. I am trying to hold down the fort knowing that he is going to get another delivery in 15 minutes. He keeps screaming, tells us to fuck ourselves and hangs up.
Tim and I just Prank-gasmed. How can this get any better? Oh, wait. It is going to get better, he has another pizza coming.
Call number two featured an utterly defeated Steve at the point of tears. Literally, he was so pissed he cried. Then his confirmation leaders get on the phone and cuss us out. THIS IS GREAT. They lecture us and berate us, question how we were raised and if we are christians.
Tim and I go and tell everyone, including our parents. They applaud our creativity but decide that it may be best to pay back steve for the pizzas, that is when he starts to talk to us again.
We paid him back after about two weeks of silence but only because it was worth it, not because we were sorry for it.
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