Some history: This is a prank I played on a friend's mother many years ago, back when I was 17 and living in Dallas. At the time my friend was complaining that his mother seemed concerned that he might be gay. She wouldn't come right out and ask him, but she was treating him "differently." It really annoyed him because, no, he wasn't gay- not by a long shot. No matter what he said or did around her, though, she didn't seem to be paying attention. She seemed only to hear and see what she thought were dead clues to the contrary. So he asked for my help. I called her immediately, with him standing right in front of me:

Mother: Hello?

Me: Hello, Mrs. "X", this is Mister Anson, one of the counselors at your son's high school.

Mother: Oh, my. Is there something wrong? Is my boy all right?

Me: He's fine, ma'am. It's just that... well... after much deliberation we decided that we should inform you of something very important about your son. First, we want you to remain calm.

Mother: Goodness! What is it?

Me: Ma'am, your son is a homo sapien.

Mother: (several seconds of dead air as she tried to process this) Excuse me?

Me: Your son, ma'am. He's a homo sa-

Mother: (somewhat miffed) My son isn't a homo-anything! You don't just call a woman's house and tell her something like that!

Me: I'm sorry, ma'am, but it's true. We've done a lot of research on this kind of thing. Your son is, indeed, a homo sapien. But there's more, ma'am.

Mother: More?

Me: Mrs. "X", we've found your son, many times, masticating in the cafeteria.

Mother: WHAT?

Me: And his theater teacher would like me to inform you that he's quite the thespian.

Mother: (somewhere between breaking down in tears and foaming at the mouth) WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!?!? You call me and tell me that my son is a homosexual, he's masturbating in school and he's a lesbian??? Where the hell do you get off, pal? This kind of thing ruins a family!

Me: Ma'am-

Mother: I'm going to come right down there and yank my son out of that damn school of yours, do you hear me? And then I'm going to-

Me: Ma'am-

Mother: -sue you, personally, and all of your little lackeys. How dare you?

Me: (more forcefully) Ma'am!

Mother: What?

Me: First of all, there is nothing to be ashamed about having a homo sapien for a son. Actually, all men are homo sapiens. That's what the term means. As in homo sapiens erectus. It means human. And "masticating" means to chew, as in your son was found chewing his food in the cafeteria, which is exactly what every homo sapien does when he eats. And a "thespian" is another word for actor. Your son's drama teacher means to tell you that he's a good actor.

Mother: (several more seconds of silence as she thought about this) Really?

Me: Yes, ma'am. You really should learn how to hear what's being said to you and not what you want to hear. Your son's a good kid. We wanted to let you know.

Mother: Oh. Uhm. Who was this again?


My job was done there.
My friend never got flack from his mother again about his sexual preferences, though.

A little green man with pointy ears and a big nose went strolling up the forest. He had many jobs in the forest, as a policeman, a doctor and occasionally a fireman. Today he had been called to investigate a malfunction, exactly what it was he had no idea. The sun light came through the leaves, some blue tits were singing, as were some Jackdaws. It reminded him of the day he spontaneously arose from a rotting elm tree and met the other sapient and half sapient beings of the forest. He came to a log cabin towards the west of the centre of the forest. It was made from long, thick logs from healthy trees. He knocked at the door.It was answered by a middle aged Anthropoid looking women wearing an apron and carrying a feather duster.

“Oh would you like to come in?” she said.

“Certainly” he said.

The room looked like any other suburban room, albeit without any electric appliances. The woman was busy removing the dust from the place. At times looking inane, other times concentrating hardly. The little green man breathed in the tranquility of the place before asking his questions.

“So, where’s the man of the house?” he asked.

“Oh, he works at the cafe down at the village after going through the corn fields at east side of the forest. It’s funny, every now and then someone goes missing and they’re all wondering where they’ve gone and it’s probably hubby whose disappeared them” she answered, grinning inanely.

“So, how will he have done that?”

She told him this whilst still dusting the place, talking and acting as though this was just an evening pottery class, which it was to her, of course.

“Well you see, at night, when moonlight touches us, we all turn into wolves, well, extra strong wolves with opposable thumbs who can stand for a few seconds on their hind legs. When that happens, we check the larder, if there ain’t enough victuals in the larder; we go out into the woods. Normally it consists of hunting down deer and collecting wild crocuses’, but occasionally some humans drive through this forest, and we throw fallen trees at them, causing the cars to crash and we put them in the larder as well. You should try human, it’s like Boar but greasier. When the sun rises we turn back into our Anthropoid selves, of course we’re usually back in bed by that stage.”

The little green man shook his head in what might have been interpreted as aproval, but could have meant any number of things.

“You seem to have an interesting life as werewolves, so what exactly is this malfunction?”

“Well you see our families only turn into wolves when we’ve reached puberty, until then we go to sleep in a reinforced concrete bunker to make sure that we don’t get killed, because, at that stage you look no different to a human so we get easily confused. Now our son is now 13 and we decided it would be time for him to sleep up here in the cabin. But last night when we turned into wolves, he didn’t, he just stayed Anthropoid, we thought he was a human and tried to kill him, but he held us all off with the kitchen stall, boy it still hurts now, we eventually left him went on out into the forest, but I’m worried something’s wrong with him.”

“It sounds very interesting, is your son in the house?”

“No he’s at school in the village, but there’s his blood stain on the carpet were hubby scratched him.”

“Well I can easily do a report from this piece of biological data”

The little green man then went over and began to move his hands over the blood stain. Slowly but surely, a continuous piece of paper came out of his mouth, with very intricate writing all over it. He looked at it, and he began to look increasingly plain.

“Ma’am, I think you should look at this report yourself”.

The werewolf housewife looked at the report, and the look of horror became ever more apparent.

“Oh my God, Oh my...Oh dear!”

“Yes Ma’am, your son is a Homo Sapien.”

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