April Fools Day- Downeast Duck Hunter Style

Mahoney... my best man...

The first of April is the day we remember what we are the other 364 days of the year... Mark Twain

As I sit here this morning enjoying the April Fools Day snowstorm in Maine I had to do it...

My best man, Mahoney, is mad at me...

Once again I’ve managed to dupe him for April Fools Day, but I’ve got a better one to share.  Before I get to the monumental mockery, today's prank ought to be disclosed for it surprisingly did work.  Here’s the link and then I’ll get to the goods.  On the link there will be a green button you need to click on to play the recording.  It's just above the share on Facebook button.

Prank call on Mahoney

I’ve known Mahoney since the fall of 1995 when we lived in the same dorm at the University of Maine.  It was natural we became friends for I was awesome and he was a pretty good chap himself.  We both hunted and it take long for us to be causing trouble, well at least him with his high school sweetheart.  We’ll just say she loves me now, especially since Mahoney and I haven’t hung out since August.  I suppose that my influence wasn’t the best, but he’s still married to her and we are still allowed to get together every so often.  Actually, I'm not being exactly fair about Mrs. Mahoney, she's quite the gem and was a bridesmaid for my wife almost eight years ago.  Okay, enough said about the man... let’s roll with the story...

It took Mahoney ten years of friendship to finally get down for a good sea duck hunt, but once I introduced him to the Quack he couldn’t stay away.  Every other weekend, he was driving 3 hours in the morning to hop into the boat.  Let’s just stay he became a quack addict.  To top it all off, Mahoney started bringing friends as if he were the man producing this event of excellence.

One of the better guys Mahoney brought down is a good fellow named Littlefield.  Today, I’m happy to say that we are very good friends.  And for this story, Littlefield will be the pivotal force in my prank.  Introduction over... story time....

Littlefield, key figure in the prank... Is that duck alive?

I call Mahoney all wound up and speaking in tongues, he doesn’t know what is going on.  All I say is... moose hunt, won, Papelbon, me...

For those of you who don’t know, Mahoney and I combined have been on six hunts with shooting permissions.  Of those six, we’ve been together for five of them.  His first one I decided to stay with my new girlfriend, she was far hotter than Mahoney.  Back to the story...

Once Mahoney convinced me to stop jabbering, I explained to him how the state of Maine had offered five guided moose hunts each with a professional athlete from New England to raise money for some type of benefit.  We (I blurted) would be going to Zone 1 next October for an all-expense paid hunt with Jonathan Papelbon, the rocket armed closer of the Boston Red Sox.  This ticket had been bought at the Maine Sportmen’s Show, the one Mahoney couldn’t attend that year because he had to attend a baby shower.

So how does one sell this impossible offer?

I had previously called Littlefield and suggested that he help me with this sinister act.  After outlining the entire process with what to say and when to say it, Littlefield accepted the task at hand.  He would be my other choice, knew about the contest, and also would add that he saw Papelbon on NESN (New England Sports Network) on a moose hunt of a similar nature.  There were no flaws in my prank.

So, I tell Mahoney that I want him to come and that I thought Littlefield would be a good choice to be the other attendee.  This created some doubt, but I needed that for after all this was April Fools Day.  I told Mahoney to call Littlefield and ask him if he’d like to join, Littlefield WAS sure to know of this contest. 

The phone tag game took off as Mahoney was calling Littlefield while I was trying to call Mahoney back; call waiting, excitement, lies, and promises were bouncing all over the place.  Littlefield played it like a pro, the guy who knew about the contest and had bought tickets.  He acted as if he had been blessed to think that someone like me would offer the last spot to him over someone like my father, but I had already said my dad didn’t want to go for he had other obiligations.  Mahoney,  my buddy, was officially- hook, line, and sinker.

After a few calls to both parties within the next hour, I had one guy so wound up he could have kissed me and the other praised by me for brilliant execution.  The seed had been planted on April Fools Day, but I let the briar bush grow.

In the next week I got phone calls from Mahoney’s dad and everybody else imaginable.  Mahoney had gone to work telling everybody about his “dream hunt” and even considered contacting a reporter from his local newspaper.  He called me every night about the details of the trip so that he may be able to help out, this trip was a dream come true.

I couldn’t let it go anymore for I felt guilty, well sort of, not really...

In a weeks time, I broke the news to my best friend who had stood with me at my wedding as I had stood at his day of reckoning.  Let’s just stay he didn’t call me for a few days, he was standing at home plate watching the third strike go by while the bat lay on his shoulder.  Struck out with a chin high fastball... bad call maybe, but back to the dug out chump...

Mahoney buddy, you are a man of great stature and I’m fortunate to say that you are my best man.  Life since you came along has been full of adventures and I thank god everyday you decide that morning to still be my friend.  For that, I dedicate this and every other April Fools Day to you.

Your buddy in adventure,
The Downeast Duck Hunter