The first time I’d ever witnessed a Fools Day prank, was when I was about eight years old. My uncle came to the house looking morose. He grabbed a dishcloth and held it over his mouth; grinning behind it.
He came to tell us that a family member had landed in the hospital – a serious injury. He couldn’t maintain the prank for long. He’d probably felt guilt from the momentary hysterics he’d created.
It was no surprise then that at fourteen-years-old my thought process went straight to something dark and horrific to have some Fools Day “fun.”
I went in to the cold room in our basement and dug around.
The axe looked like a great place to start.