Senior Picnic Bird Attack
During tug-of-war on the all-purpose field, a whistle sounded and a flock of birds flew out of Johnson's Woods and descended on the picnic, flying everywhere and relieving themselves on everyone.
“Yuck,” Ellie says.
“No, it’s get better,” Wheeler says. “Open the picture.”
Thirty seconds later, all of us are laughing as hard as Wheeler. A blur of birds fills the screen, their white bird shit streaking down the kids’ shirts and matting their hair. Students run around as if caught in the middle of a bombing run. But it’s the guy standing in the middle of the photo with his head shit splattered as he swings at passing birds that make this the single greatest photo in the history of mankind.
Stranko.
“T-shirts,” Wheeler says, borderline hyperventilating. “We need to make T-shirts.”
“And rent a billboard,” Adleta adds.
It’s not a bad idea. What I really want to know though is how they pulled off a prank like that. And I have a good idea who to ask. Uncle Boyd.
“So where do we go from here?” Malone soon asks. “How does this help us find the Chaos Club?”
“Because it’s information. And yeah, the Chaos Club is anonymous. We know that. But what if we make them find us instead?” I say.
“I think they already did that, dude,” Wheeler says.
“That’s not what I mean. What’s cool about the Chaos Club is you never know when they’re going to strike next. That’s probably why they’ve never been caught. They’re usually good for a few pranks a year and always one at the end of the year, but what if they suddenly started doing more?”
“Why would they do that?” Adleta said.
“They wouldn’t.”
“So then what’s your point?”
“The five of us pretend to be the Chaos Club,” Malone says, sitting up. “That’s what you mean, isn’t it? You want us to pull pranks too.”
“That’s the idea.”
“What will pulling pranks help?” Wheeler asks. “The goal is to find out who they are and destroy them, not do their work for them. Why make them even bigger heroes than they already are?”
Adleta gets it now too.
“Oh, you don’t want us to just pull pranks—you want us to pull bad pranks, ones that would make the administration have to act. Is that it?”
“Yeah, I got the idea in Watson’s class the other day when he said sometimes it’s good for symbols to be torn down. I started thinking, what if we hijack the Chaos Club—their ideas, their websites, even their cards—until they finally have to show themselves? They’ve lived in the shadows for almost forty years. There’s no way they’re going to sit by and let us pretend we are the Chaos Club. They’ll be forced to respond too, like the administration. Either way, it’ll make things happen.”
Everyone goes quiet thinking this over. I’ll admit the plan’s not foolproof—the Chaos Club could just ignore us and then we’re putting ourselves at risk for no reason—but it’s not an awful plan either.
“I like it,” Wheeler says. “Destruction for a good cause. I’m in.”
“What sort of pranks do you have in mind?” Adleta asks.
“Whatever gets their attention, especially anything dumb, elaborate, or over the top. The Chaos Club prides itself on quality. I’m sure the five of us can come up with some stupid pranks to draw them out or pranks where the administration would have to act.”
Adleta says, “Count me in.”
“And if we get caught?” Malone asks.
We all just look dumbly at each other.
“I don’t need an answer,” she says. “I’m just trying to see all the angles. But I’m in too.”
“Good,” I say, “because I need you to use your art skills to make imitations of the Chaos Club business cards. Can you do that?”
“That should be easy enough. Design wise, their cards are pretty basic.”
Leaving only one person—Ellie.
“I’ll do it on one condition,” she says. “We make it a contest. Best prank wins. That’ll make it a lot more fun.”
“I like it,” Malone says. “A prank off.”
“Great idea,” I say, and Ellie grins with her whole face.
“What’s the prize?” Wheeler asks.
“Bragging rights,” Malone says.
“No,” Ellie says, “even better, the winner gets a guaranteed yes.”
“A what?” Adleta says.
“Whoever we decides wins gets to ask for something from us and we have to say yes. It’ll be fun.”
“I am one hundred percent in favor of this prize,” Wheeler says.
“Why am I imagining your request would include some sort of nudity…or worse?” Malone says.
“Because you know me so well, Kate, duh.”
“Don’t worry,” Ellie says to Malone. “He won’t win. Girls are a lot more creative than boys.”
“If there’s a winner, does that mean there’s a loser too?” I ask.
“Oh, you don’t want to be the loser,” Ellie says, twisting an invisible mustache. “There will be dire consequences for the loser.”