As some readers may recall, I have a friend–let’s go ahead and call her “Cathy” again even though she hates that–who’s been on the receiving end of a number of good-natured pranks. One of these, and by far the most complicated, happens to involve a large jar of bacon grease.
As I explained in a post last May, titled Bringing Home the Bacon, Part I, Bacon Jar started as a receptacle for all the bacon fat we’d create whenever my friends and I would cook together at Cathy’s house. We used to store him in Cathy’s fridge, but after an incident in which Bacon Jar was quietly hidden under Cathy’s pillow for her to discover in the middle of the night, I was instructed to get that jar “out of [her] house immediately.” I did as I was told, but with a warning: one day, Bacon Jar would return.
Bacon Jar’s homecoming would not take place immediately. No, that would be far too easy. Instead, his return was built up to in a series of horrible steps. Allow me to share them with you.
Step 1: Give Him a Little Face
First things first. If we were gonna do this right, Bacon Jar was gonna need a little face.
Step 2: Takin’ Pictures
Especially now that Bacon Jar had become so photogenic, my friends and I decided that Cathy’s Bacon Jar experience wouldn’t be complete without photographs to remember it by. That’s why, unbeknownst to her, we followed her around with the Bacon Jar for months, taking pictures of it with her stuff.
Step 3: Makin’ Friends
Now it was time to put the two of them in touch. Because Cathy was unaware that she was being perpetually stalked by a jar of bacon grease, imagine her surprise a few months later when she got a Facebook friend request from a certain special someone.
Then imagine her surprise once she proceeded to look through his photo albums.
Step 4: Makin’ Memories
All of this was in the service of creating what is commonly referred to as “a landscape of fear,” and given the hysterical text messages I received, it appeared to have worked. Yet, unless something was done, that fear would soon subside–how often was she gonna check his Facebook page? What Cathy needed was a physical reminder of Bacon Jar’s existence, something she could keep in her home.
There was only one obvious solution. Say it with me now. “Waterfall picture frame. ”
This was surreptitiously installed on her mantelpiece. You just plug it in, and the water continuously flows around the outside of the frame. A truly classy way to commemorate a truly classy jar. The box even claims that it gently humidifies the room. Best of all, it’s surprisingly easy to smuggle into and set up in someone else’s house when they’re not looking.
Step 5: Bringin’ Him Home
The waterfall picture frame worked wonders. Alas, however, all good things must come to an end, so a week ago it was decided that it was finally time for Bacon Jar’s triumphant homecoming. And what better way to wrap things up, we thought, than with a loving homage to Psycho? I left him where I was sure Cathy would find him. And as she climbed in the shower the next morning, find him she did.
This occasioned the following email.
Date: Fri, Dec 7, 2012 at 8:43 AM
Subject: when I got in my shower this morning
BACON JAR WAS STARING AT ME.
I know. I’ll be the first to admit we maybe carried things a little far. After all, this prank started over a year ago, required the ongoing, active complicity of six people, and was carried out in multiple media. If it’s any comfort, Cathy, at least you can rest assured that he’s in your possession now, resting quietly on your dresser where he can’t bother anyone.
… Or is he. I wonder, when’s the last time you checked to see if he was still there? Is there a chance someone might have removed him? Might he be at large once again? Here’s a hint:
For Cathy and Bacon Jar, the saga continues. And this is how she’s finding out.