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A Gut Buster by Matt Maher

John and I met in high school through a mutual lifetime friend, Thom Bailey. Although John and I only shared a few classes and 6th or 7th hour privilege our senior year at Bishop Foley, I remember him making an immediate impression on me through his defiant nature of the status quo. Wearing a kilt on "Plaid Day", Mohawking his hair with Elmer's glue or Dippity Do, self tattooing and a Black Flag leather Jacket (Bailey, you know the one!) and a black DK tee shirt, shorts and checked Vans high tops in gym class. We also shared English class with Maureen Ronney, "Mo Ronney".  John would become known for his occasional practical jokes in several, if not all, of his classes and general assemblies. One came to mind last evening I can clearly recall. A beauty played on the entire English class in 5th hour . Miss Ronney had prepared another one of her audio film strips about who knows what. This type of film strip would auto advance the frames in sync with an annoying "Bing". John came well prepared that day with a tape of Elton John's Prelude that he planned to replace with the correct tape. John was his usual fidgety self this particular afternoon as he let me in on his mild mischievousness.

After getting my definite approval to go for it, John used me as a lookout to make the switch. I kept a watchful eye as the class settled in and Miss Ronney was collecting the to-be-graded home work while the film strip was playing out. John made the swap as the last of the class took their seats. Miss Ronney had the designated Audio Visual geek dim the lights and begin the presentation. There we sat, shades drawn with a giant " START AUDIO HERE" posted on the screen.

John could hardly wait. The audio play button was pressed and there was no turning back. A gentle rolling of piano began with a quiet strum of guitar. Miss Ronney, with her head down grading papers, was oblivious to the slow start for the first full minute when a note from the soundtrack advanced the strip to the next frame. This surprised John and I but made it that much better. On the music grew, louder and faster. Again the film strip advanced. John loved every minute of this slight of hand. By now Miss Ronney was curious why there was no narration by looking over her shoulder at the screen with some curiosity. She mentioned that the film strip had a slow start. John just about lost it now buckling in his seat restraining from an utter explosion of laughter.

Meanwhile, the frames continue to advance a few more times as the class also collectively wondering what the hell they were watching, some of them looking around now getting wise to a probable joke in progress.

Ms Ronney now sensed that something indeed was wrong and gets up to inspect the projector. Slowly she passed John and I as we composed ourselves long enough not to give ourselves up. John literally held his breath for a minute or better before letting out some accidental snorts of guilt. Miss Ronney finally aware one has certainly been pulled over on her, returns to the front of the class. John, who has exhausted every ounce of restrain, can no longer contain himself.

Up come the lights with the exact timing of John's blast of laughter and self incriminating pitch red face. No judge or jury needed here as Miss Ronney said "Mr. Pavlat?" asking for his admission of guilt. John, head cocked and shoulders shrugged cool as ever in his high pitch cracking voice returns "What?" Trying to turn the tables back on her as if to say "Why are you blaming me?" I believe Miss Ronney secretly appreciated the subtle genius in this harmless joke as she redeclared to the class "lets try this again" removing Elton John from the player never to be returned to its rightful owner.

Mental high fives were flying in praise for John's afternoon folly at Foley. John, of course, wanted his tape back, but knew it was probably entered into the safe keeping as evidence as article "JP". We spent the next period replaying the story out to our circle of friends. I was proud to have shared a serious session of laughter with John, as I would later experience often in his presence. Knowing John, he probably returned to get his tape back without a trace, we'll never know.

I share this story with anyone who hasn't already heard it whenever I catch it on the radio. Awesome work John, thanks for the hilarious memories of creative work in action. You taught me much about the art of laughter for all to share.

Your "Tallest SOB Friend,
Matt Maher