We’ve all ruined someone’s life at some point in our meaningless lives, haven’t we? Maybe not. But I did once. By accident. And it was only temporary, so I can laugh at it now. Not going to lie, I laughed at it back then, too. I’ve never claimed to not be an asshole.
It was summer, fall, spring or winter of either 2004, 2005, or 2006. I was having a girl’s night with two friends in a bedroom with hot men and Disney princesses taped to the walls, somewhere in North Quincy. The particular girl whose house we were at owned a voice changing machine of some sorts. I think it was a karaoke machine with voice changing capabilities. We sometimes spent evenings getting shitfaced and singing Wonderful World, pouring some soul out for Louis Armstrong. Because that’s what teenage girls do. Or maybe they don’t. Another thing that teenage girls like to do is prank call everyone they’ve ever met. Ex boyfriends, current boyfriends, boys we were stalking, etc. There was a girl in particular that, at the time, we were feuding with. She was an ex-friend who had hooked up with our ex-boyfriends. So like any scorned females/psychos, we decided to prank this ho (she’s actually not a ho currently, as we are now okay and run into each other on the train during rush hour from time to time). Prank calling is pretty harmless, unless someone falls down the stairs to their death in the process of running to answer the phone.
Anyways, we didn’t really discuss what we were going to say, I just picked up the mic, turned on the Louis Armstrong setting, hit *-6-7 on the phone, and dialed the rest of the girl’s number. She picks up the phone:
Me: Hello ____her name here____.
Her: Who is this?
Me: Your worst enemy.
Me: I know what you did last summer.
Me: I know.
Her: Know what?
Me: What you did. Um, last summer.
(corny giggles in background that sounds like deep voiced man to girl on phone).
Her: Who is this?! What do you want?! Stop calling me. (hangs up).
I put the phone down, thinking that I blew it. I know what you did last summer? WEAK. On the level of the old ‘Is your refrigerator running?’ joke. I have to redeem myself. So I call her back. This time a guy answers. I assume this is her boyfriend.
Angry Boyfriend: HELLO?!
Angry Boyfriend: Who the fuck is this and what do you want?!
Me: I know what she did last summer.
Angry Boyfriend: What who did?! What the fuck are you talking about!!!!???
Me: I know.
Angry: YOU KNOW WHAT?!
Me: What she did.
Angry Boyfriend: WHEN?! WHO?
Me: Last summer. Her.
Angry Boyfriend: Go fuck ya self! (hangs up)
Damn! Blew it again! I choked because I wasn’t expecting the girl’s angry boyfriend to pick up. Really threw me for a loop. Anyways, we gave up the prank calls for the evening and probably went back to singing Wonderful World or discussing foreign policy between Germantown and Wollaston.
The following night, or maybe a month later, one of the girlfriend’s I was with the night of the pranking/Louis concert gave me the 4-1-1 on the latest gossip she’d heard. The chick we had pranked had been cheating on her boyfriend with her best friend’s boyfriend. She had confessed to all parties involved, and naturally, her boyfriend and best friend dumped her . We laughed bitterly at her expense for a few minutes and then stayed quiet for a moment. We were both thinking the same shit: did our prank call provoke this girl to confess to her dirty deeds? We had had no clue what the chick had done last summer, and didn’t care. But we may or may not have been responsible for ruining this girl’s life. We may have cost her her best friend and boyfriend over the most rookie prank call in the history of prank calling. We looked wide eyed at each other, then died laughing and continued drinking in the Vane street parking lot, because we are from Quincy and the laugh last was on us, I guess.
I forget how we found out, but shortly after hearing about the break up of the girl and her boyfriend and best friend, it was confirmed to us that we did indeed provoke her confession. Our juvenile prank call had backed this girl into a corner, and she felt she had to reveal her skeletons or the nameless caller would do it for her. We had temporarily ruined someone’s life. And some bitch face had told her that we were the prank callers behind the threatening private number. She also knew we really didn’t have a clue that she was cheating on her boyfriend. So she’d outed herself for nothing. Which caused the disdain we had for her to become mutual.
Before you cast judgement, and call me an asshole, remember: cheating is bad. You should also know that upon running into this girl at a Quincy Center bar in recent years, she has thanked us for our prank call, on the grounds that her ex boyfriend was a trick ass bitch or something. So I think there are certainly assholes whom are bigger than us. Fo sho. The lesson in all of this: I Know What You Did Last Summer and Jennifer Love Hewitt’s boobs are a force not to be reckoned with.
(Note to girl whose life got ruined temporarily by me years back: I hope this blog doesn’t change our status from friendly train acquaintance to fake smile/ awkward small talk. I don’t think you’re a ho. You knew it would be funny years later in a blog, right…right?)