Hoskins Got Owned

Hoskins is my long time buddy from back home. We've been friends since junior high. I'd like to say that we always joke around and play tricks on each other, but that's not really true. The pranks are pretty one sided. Straight from me to him. Rinse, Lather, Repeat. It started when I clamped his leg to a table vice in shop class, and has gone downhill from there. Honestly, I'm not sure why he still hangs out with me...

Recently he came out to stay at my place so he go to a training class in Arlington, VA for a week. He picked a bad week for it. My wife's Thesis Concert at the university was that Thursday and Friday. She was stressed out and had late rehearsals pretty much every day. I had to work two double shifts that week, and my in-laws were coming to visit that weekend. I was going to have to lay down the law and tell old Hoskins that he was going to have to stay somewhere else when he dropped the big one on me.

"Ultimate," He said. "My company is allowing me to expense all my meals for this trip."

"Uh, that's really nice Hoskins." I said as I started making an obscene stroking gesture. I think he could tell by my tone of voice that I wasn't all that thrilled.

"I don't think you understand, Ultimate." He replied. "My company lets me spend up to $50 on food per meal... AND $75 ON ALCOHOL PER PERSON PER NIGHT!"

"Hoskins, can you email me your flight itinerary? Also, do you need me to pick you up at the airport? Are you sure you can only stay one week?"

Anyway, the week was a blast. We had an amazing time. His training class sucked. My worked sucked. DC sucks. His OCD sucked. My unrelenting asshole-ish personality sucked. BUT THE BOOZE WAS GREAT!

Anyway at the end of the week, Hoskins decides that he doesn't want to carry anything on the airplane on the flight back. So he fills up several packing boxes with miscellaneous BS he's gathered over the course of the trip, fills out the airbills and leaves them on my kitchen table. Then he sends me a text saying something like: "Oh yeah, make sure my boxes get delivered..."

That's when I grabbed one of his boxes in one hand, my favorite pen in the other and drew this little gem:

I was expecting the box to get routed through my company's delivery system pretty much intact. I expected that my little sketch would thrill and delight all who saw it, and that Hoskins would have a little chuckle when the Delivery Guy had him sign for his packages. But that's not exactly what happened. Let me just say that the gods of practical jokes were smiling at me that day, because it succeeded better than I could have hoped for or even imagined.

He didn't notice the drawing. He sold some stuff on eBay, packed it in the now defiled box and took it to the post office to ship. Let me post Hoskins own remarks about the prank. The following is taken directly from the email he sent me:

Dear Ultimate,

Imagine taking a box up to the friendly postal employee at the
counter. You've spoken with her many times as you've cleaned out your
closets via eBay. Her name is Sandra, but you and the other regulars
know her as Sandy. You begin to make the typical small talk one does
while waiting on the archaic computer systems to meter out a postal
fee.

She cheerfully punches in the zip codes with her obscenely long finger
nails, reads off three or four options that no one ever chooses, and
finally hits the standard mail button. Bored, you take notice of her
window's family pictures. What cute children she has.

Then, your eyes are drawn to something that seems a bit out of place.
Something isn't quite right with the package on the scale in front of
you. You don't know you've seen it, but you have. It is a crude
drawing of a man spraying the seed of life from his giant penis.

Immediately, as if commanded by your realization that the Ultimate
Delivery Option has defiled your box, she turns the box to get a better
view of the address. With all your will you plead with the gods of fate
not to let her notice what you failed to find and cover up. Yet, she does.
Immediately, you see it in her eyes. She's found your little buddy and
his giant dong.

The contempt on her face is complete. Your shame almost matches, but
is somewhat diluted by the fact that it is actually kinda funny. Funny
until you realize that the box is full of children's books and it's
really too late to cover up. No, the penis and his flowing sperm are
protected by a layer of packing tape. This Moaning Lisa will be
preserved for the next generation to enjoy.

---Hoskins


Dear Hoskins,

You got owned!

---Ultimate