My family went to Squirrel Lake once a year, usually just for a few days, and every moment of daylight was precious because you could do all kinds of things outside: fishing, swimming, throwing horseshoes, pretending to be Indians and hiking to the point, riding the big log “horse” in the side yard, hunting for Daddy Long Legs, rowing the boat over to Diamond Lake, looking for deer in the clearing.

But one day every year we’d go into town, and that was fun too. Because there was this little novelty store that sold toys and games and sling shots and other cool stuff kids like. One year they had the best thing ever: fake blood in a tube. It was called “Vampire Blood.” I knew I wanted some but wasn’t sure what I could really use it for. So I bought some and waited for inspiration.

It didn’t take long. That afternoon I was watching the Geezer splitting firewood with an axe out behind the big shed. After a while he was tired and sweaty, and he put the axe away and headed down to the lake for a swim.

I didn’t go with him. Instead I went inside, grabbed my tube of Vampire Blood, and went back behind the shed.

I took the axe down off the wall and brought it back to the big chopping block where he had been splitting logs. Then I smeared Vampire Blood all over the lower part of my left leg and lied down next to the chopping block.

This would be great. I was hoping it would be my brother who’d find me. He’d made some rude comments that morning about how he was better at everything than me. This would make him sorry.

I could just picture the reaction as I laid there. The screams. The panic. The wailing and sobbing, the plaintive cries.

I waited for quite a while and no one had come by yet. I couldn’t decide whether—when I was at last discovered—it would be better to pretend to be dead and then suddenly leap up laughing, or to keep the act going and moan and groan like I was in tremendous pain. I was leaning toward the leap-and-laugh approach.

More than an hour passed and still no one came. No one was even looking for me.

This was getting annoying. My thoughts drifted away from the prank and I started thinking about what I was missing, lying there waiting to traumatize someone. I could be fishing inside the boat house right now. Dangling the hook in front of the nose of that big rock bass I had seen earlier that day. I could be swimming down at the dock. I could take the rowboat out and pretend I’m Charlton Heston in Ben Hur. After an hour and a half, I gave up. I scooped up a handful of dirt and dried pine needles and rubbed the Vampire Blood off. I headed inside to get my swimming suit on and tried to remember where I’d left my fishing pole.