Hubris!
Imagine in the distant past that was the late 80's. University. Students. Practical jokes.

How. Fucking. Dull.

I was the dullest of the dull thinking he was oh so fucking hilarious with the patently irritating practical "jokes".

Anyhoo one i came up with was this, you need one pissed up mate, his bed, the central heating turned WAY up and a kilo of icing sugar. This works best if said mate is hairy and tends to sleep in or almost in the all together.

Before he (or she) goes to pass out, sprinkle the icing sugar evenly over the sheets and pillow, rub it in well so it escapes casual inspection.

Mate/Victim goes to bed, extra hot house, drunken sweats, et voila, icing sugar firmly glues them into bed. Bon Appétit. Cries of agony and woe when said mate wakes up and gives themselves a full body wax as they struggle out of bed or even more “hilariously” can’t get out of the bed and either pisses themselves or if they’ve been drinking stout suffers from “fart o’doom” syndrome and befouls their mattress.

Now the paranoia engendered in the successful perpetrator of such an “extinction level event” prank meant that I used to regularly rub a wetted finger down my sheets prior to sleep and taste the resultant finger looking for sugar.

Even on my honeymoon.

Now my wife commented upon this to my mates who through the mists of time, recalled how the jape worked, they should, two of them had suffered it decades previously.

Rewenge is a dish best served ice cold I hear. And they, with the willing aid of my fragrant bride, plotted my downfall.

Now I like to drink a fair bit, I’m rather hirsute and I usually sleep au naturel. Perfect fodder for the jape, apart from my ingrained survival skills around sugared sheets.

This is where my wife came in, she informed my friends that she’d take care of this, so basically she jumped me every night for several months, just as I was about to perform my nightly sugar security routine and screwed my brains out. For long enough to for to forget my battle hardened icing reflex and become lulled into a false sense of security.

Our tale moves forward a year or so, a friend’s stag weekend, the subject of japes crops up and I’m reminded by one of the conspirators that I used to have a mean reputation for japes at university. Something about sugar one piped up.

I’d like to say that my sixth, seventh and eighth senses prickled my awareness at this point, but the lazy fuckers didn’t say a dickybird, so I blundered straight on into their trap.

I even bought the fucking icing sugar.

Nasty hotel, lots of beer and a ruby, giggles as the best man informs me that he’s spiked the groom-to-be’s bed and that he’s got a video camera set up to record the scene in the morning.

Any alarm bells on my side? None!

I go for a finishing few in the hotel bar with the lads, and crash out.

I awake with an urgent note from my prostrate that an Olympic swimming pool of urine has shown up and needs to be sorted asap.
I try to get out of bed.

Oh the humanity!

Oh the dawning realisation that i was at home to madame retribution and at all my friends and loved ones were in on it.

I decide on the course of gallantry and not pissing in the bed and through main force yank myself, the tightly tucked in sheets and the pillow from the bed and into the shower to attempt to remove two kilos of icing from my body without giving myself a back crack and sack wax.

It fucking hurt.

Removing bedclothes and gooey icing sugar from your scrotum using a fixed hotel shower is an experience I urge none of you to duplicate, unless you are very good at doing hand stands in the bath.

Years later I’m still checking the sheets for sugar.
( edz314 smelled the glove on, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 12:19, 4 replies)

A fair price to pay...
...for several months' worth of nightly shags, I'd say.
( reallywittyname veraciously conspues lexiphanicism on, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 12:30, closed)

Good grief
Does that really work? Just icing sugar? I'm impressed... and I wish I'd known about it on my brother's stag/ wedding night. Bah!
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 12:42, closed)

a similar thing can be done with powdered milk
this has the effect of leaving the victim smelling of sweaty cheese for quite some time.

(nicely written btw)

*clicky*
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 14:13, closed)

hehe
If I knew someone would taste the sheets evreynight, My revenge would be far less sweet.
(manbear84, Mon 17 Dec 2007, 17:14, closed)