Back in the last decade a friend called to tell me that a business associate had been trampled by a herd of deer on his Easthampton property. I didn’t question the story and immediately phoned Billy O.

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay.” Billy O was a realtor of moderate wealth. He was in love with his beautiful wife and two daughters. His voice was free of pain.

“No reason.” I realized that my friend had played a practical joke for April Fool’s Day. “Have a nice afternoon.”

I hung up the phone and sat on my bed slightly angered by my friend’s prank, but it was April Fool’s Day and my landlord got a good chuckle upon bushwhacking about my gullibility. He was also friends with Billy O.

“It’s an April Fool’s tradition.”

“And my brother’s birthday.” I had contacted Frank early to wish happy birthday. “The tradition comes from Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales with merry-makers celebrating March 32th by sticking a paper fish on the backs of friends and family.”

“That’s silly,” AP’s son commented from the next room. James had good hearing.

“Yes, it is, but back in the Middle Ages the New Year was celebrated on March 25th to match the Spring Equinox, then the Pope changed it to January 1st by the Edict of Rousillon.”

“You know a lot of stuff.” James attended an expensive neighborhood school. His parents expected him to excel in his classes. He fulfilled their wishes every report card.

“I’m a vast abyss of useless knowledge. I read a lot.” Not as much now as earlier in the year. The world was doomed to end on May 21, 2012 according to the Christians and they don’t joke about the Apocalypse. “James, there’s a dog on your head.”

“No, there isn’t.” His hands went to his head.

“April Fool.” Six year-old boys are easier targets, but so are fifty-nine year old men.

And that’s no joke.