MY CHILDHOOD PRANKS AND OTHER MISDEMEANORS C 2012 JoJo

Recently I was recalling the pranks and other wicked stuff I got up to as a teenager.

Back when I was a teenager in Brazil, girls weren’t given the freedom to come and go as they wished, but had to be accompanied by a chaperone – usually the family maiden aunt (every Brazilian family seemed to have one of those). Well Doreen and I didn’t have a Brazilian upbringing (and no maiden aunt either, come to that) because our parents were Brits, ergo we were free to come and go as we pleased.

When I was around 16 years of age, my family and I lived next door to a family named da Silva, who had a daughter Glorinha (pronounced Gloringya) who was very jealous of us because she DID have a maiden aunt – a shrivelled up old crow with black beady eyes that noticed everything poor Glorinha did, and reported it back to her parents.

One day, our telephone rang and I instantly recognized Glorinha’s voice.

“Is that the Igreja Ingleza (English Church)?”

Since she didn’t identify herself, I kept quiet wondering what was coming next.

“Erm … do you sell shoes for corpses?”

Without missing a beat I answered “Why yes we do, Glorinha, what size do you take?”

She hung up quickly. But she decided to try once more to pull one phone prank on us, only this time she’d stuffed a handkerchief in the telephone receiver in an attempt to disguise her voice.

Once again she asked if this was the English Church, and once again I agreed that yes it was.

“Do you baptize illegitimate children?” she asked, trying to suppress her giggles.

“Why yes we do Glorinha – by all means bring your little bastard over and we’ll be happy to christen him.”

Telephone pranks were great fun back in the day. My best friend Elia and I were little buggers and very adept making such calls. I must confess some of the pranks weren’t very kind, but we thought them hysterically funny.

We’d dial a number at random, until our call was answered by obviously a young man. Then we’d flirt up a storm with him, getting the poor guy all worked up, and panting in his eagerness to meet us.

“We’ll meet you at 2.00 pm on Saturday in front of the Icarai Cinema,” we’d say.

On Saturday, I’d get out my bike and ride it over to her apartment building. I had a carrier on the back of my bike, and Elia would hop onto it and off I’d peddle, huffing and puffing. We’d ride past the Icarai Cinema and sure enough, there would our prospective swain be, looking anxiously around for us!

Oh that wasn’t nice at all – poor guy. I just hope he went and saw the movie anyway and that it was a good one!

The rains in Brazil are seasonal and happen in the three summer months, during which we’d get torrential downpours. For the rest of the year, it wouldn’t rain much, so that by September and October, the water reservoirs would be low, and water a precious commodity.

Now all the houses had underground water tanks which received water from the Water Company. This water would then be pumped into the house into a tank in the attic which fed water down into th e various outlets of the house. The tanks were covered with a heavy concrete slab.

So Elia and I dialled a phone at random. A woman answered.

“Hello Madam this is the Water Company. Do you have water?”

“Just a moment,” she replied, then toddled out to her garden, lifted up the heavy concrete slab, looked down into the tank, put the slab back on, then came back to the phone.

“Yes I have,” she replied panting from the exertion.

“Good, then go and take a bath.” (“Vai tomar banho” is the Brazilian equivalent of “Go jump in the lake.”)

In retrospect, not nice, not nice at all.

Another favourite “trote” was we’d phone a taxi rank.

After the responder had identified himself as a taxi driver we’d asked “Are you free?”

And he’s reply he was indeed free.

“GIVE ME FREEDOM OR GIVE ME DEATH” we’d shout.

Oh we were rotten.

A very common Brazilian surname is “Pires.” It’s literally translation means “Saucer,” so we’d dial his number.

“Is that Mr. Pires?” we’d ask innocently.

“Yes, it is,” he replied.

“I’d like to speak to Dona Chicara (Mrs. Cup) please.”

Oh Elia and I were full of the old nick!

We’d get on a bus and carefully pick our victim, some shy looking guy sitting on one of those side seats at the front of the bus. I’d look at his shoes for a long long time, then turn to Elia. Bending over, I’d whisper something innocuous in her ear like “It’s a nice day today.” Immediately she’d look hard at his shoes, giggle and cupping her hand, whisper something back in my ear. Then we’d both look at his shoes.

Pretty soon the whole bus would be gawking at the poor guy’s shoes, and he’d doubtless think he had some doggy doo on them and try to tuck them under his seat.

Our most successful prank was on the Rua do Ouvidor Street in Rio de Janeiro. Rua do Ouvidor is a pedestrian street (no cars allowed on it), with shops on either side, topped by buildings which were about 5 stories high. Elia and I walked to roughly the middle of this street, and started looking up at one of the buildings.

Turning to her, I asked in a loud voice “DO YOU THINK HE’S GOING TO JUMP?”

“I DON’T KNOW, IT LOOKS LIKE HE MIGHT!” she replied.

Immediately a crowd gathered around us. “JUMP? JUMP? SOMEBODY’S GOING TO JUMP? WHERE? WHERE?” everyone asked looking up.

Soon there was a regular mob there, all looking up to see who was going to jump (people are such ghouls).

There would be such a commotion on the street that eventually someone working in the top floor would open his window and look out to see what was going on below.

The reaction was instant. “DON’T JUMP,” everyone shrieked “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DON’T JUMP.”

At this point, Elia and I would wander off, laughing our heads off. We’d do our bits of shopping and even when we’d come back down the Rua do Ouvidor, there would still be a few stragglers looking up hopefully, to see if somebody was going to jump.

Oh Elia and I were naughty and mischievous but tame when compared to what kids get up to these days!