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The Chinese Tattoo Prank
by Whistler Now, you don't have to be trained as a graphic artist, or working for a company on the cutting edge of printing technology, to be able to scan and doctor a take-out menu. But if someone you know is, you might want to be a little wary of any printed documents they show you as proof of something. "Oh, shit." "Look," I tell her, sympathetically, "it's not as if anyone will know. Outside of actual Chinese people. And it could still mean the same thing to you that it always did. Wow! I better get back to work. And you better get that sign-off book back out to your operator." As she left the room, I called out cheerily, "Song bie!" I looked back and everyone in the room was looking at me, silent. "You guys think she bought it?" I asked. "Shit," said my assistant, Sam, "I bought it." General hilarity ensued, and many congratulations, and much admiration of my mad, leet graphix skillz, and passing around of the phony menu. Only Roberta, one of my project managers, was unimpressed. She thought it was mean. And started making me feel guilty. So I went out to the bindery to 'fess up and apologize. The poor girl was sitting in a chair, surrounded by four or five of her co-workers, crying hysterically. She started threatening to drive down to Sayerville and stab the tattoo artist, or to just slice the tat off herself. The permanent staff in the bindery had agreed that I was probably fluent in Chinese. It took me nearly three quarters of an hour to convince her that the whole thing was a joke. I had to take her back in the office and show her the original menu, and the doctored version on my computer, and finally to call my mother on the phone and have her verify that I had never been to China. So the joy of my successful prank has been pretty well dulled, and I'll probably be facing disciplinary action for this, but at least I got an article out of it. | ||||||||||
