“Here, have an Oreo!” my friend said as she held out an Oreo with teal filling a few years ago.
Smiling, I took it and bit off a sizable chunk.
“Is this mint…?” I warily asked as I looked up and saw my friend trying to contain her snickering. Slowly, I glanced at the half-eaten Oreo on my hand and pulled off the top half.
Something didn’t seem right. The “filling” seemed a little too liquidy and wasn’t flatly pressed; instead, it stuck to the cookie’s surface, as though it had been quickly smeared on.
“It’s toothpaste!” my friend laughed.
The realization sunk in. She had pranked me.
Fortunately, she had used toothpaste and not another spreadable substance like mustard — the most disgusting condiment known to man — or wasabi, which would have burned my completely spice-intolerant tongue.
Toothpaste doesn't even taste bad. There’s a reason why people always reach for the blue bean boozled jelly bean: whether you get toothpaste or berry blue, you won’t choke on your own saliva or drown gallons of water as you would if you had gotten the dead fish or barf flavor.
Still, I was embarrassed that I had fallen for such a simple prank.
“You’re evil!” I laughed, throwing my Oreo on the table. Tossing me a mischievous look, my friend ran to her room as I pretended to be mad.
A few seconds later, she emerged holding out a couple of actual Oreos as an apology gesture. Warily, I took them from her, taking off the tops and touching the filling to make sure that it wasn’t toothpaste again. I was not going to fall for the same trick twice!
Fast forward a couple days, I became inspired to prank my younger sister in a similar way. However, I wasn’t as nice as my friend.
In the middle of the day on April 1st, I took a marshmallow and carefully carved out the inside, making an indentation for a “delicious” filling. Then, I opened up my fridge, searching for the perfect ingredient.
Like a gleaming trophy, a jar of mayonnaise stood in the center of the fridge. Immediately, I took it out and got to work, stuffing globs of the creamy condiment into the marshmallow.
Sprinkling a few pinches of salt into the crevice to give it that slight touch of flavor, I set my creation onto a spoon and surrounded it with a pool of jam to mask the oozing mayo and pungent smell.
“Try this! I just made it!” I called down to my sister while trying to maintain a poker face.
Unsuspicious, my sister lifted the spoon up to her mouth and bit into the marshmallow. Suddenly, her face became transformed by disgust and she sprinted to the sink, gurgling mouthfuls of water to save her taste buds.
“April Fools!” I said, holding out a few squares of chocolate along with a spoonful of jam without the mayonnaise marshmallow — my own apology gesture.
I admit, I felt a little guilty. But luckily, my sister forgave me.
Maybe she’ll get me back eventually. But until then, I’ll be alert by lifting the tops of Oreos and refusing to eat marshmallows handed to me on spoons!