Sping Snakes

I my last post I mentioned my semi-famous Spring Snake story, which it seems I’ve never actually told. This disappoints me as I’ve always been fairly proud of that joke, mostly because it shouldn’t have worked.

Maybe you’ve seen cans of spring snakes before, or as I see they are called on the internet, Snake Nut Cans. They are simply springs in a metal can with a covering to simulate a snake. Not terribly funny and not much of a surprise since the cans always say something generic like “Fancy Mixed Nuts” or some other such phrase. It’s the generic quality that usually causes people to realize it’s a gag right away. Nothing good comes out of a can that has no company information on it.

A friend of mine in high school came up with a solution though. In Michigan there is a company called The Morley Candy Makers. Morley was the candy you sold during school fund raisers, and as a result was always sort of around. One of their products was called Almond Pecandy Crunch, and if you click the link you’ll find it comes in a paper tube sort of canister. Well, once upon a time, it same in a metal can with a metal lid. This friend of mine took one of those cans, and the spring snake idea, and put them together. His thought was that he could catch more people that way and he was right. Even though the metal cans had long since been discontinued by that point, people still fell for it because well all knew Morley Candy and everyone knew the logo and people stop thinking after they hit recognition.

My only problem with his gag was that I thought he was too active in his approach. Brian wasn’t the sort to actively hand out candy, and he was a little to aggressive in trying to get other people to open the tin. I said that I could get better results telling people exactly what was in the can and getting them to open it that way. He said that was bollocks and so we tried the experiment.

I walk in with the can and set it down on a table with a few people. I then sit down as if I hadn’t just set a ticking time bomb on the table and start drawing on a sketch pad. One girl asks, quite foolishly I still feel “Is that Morley popcorn?” which is silly because it says so right on the tin.

“No,” I replied looking up from my sketch pad, looking as if I’ve only told her an absolute truth, “It’s a can of spring snakes.”

“It is not.” She says, smiling in that way some people do when they think they’re being put on. “Spring snakes come in those fake cans, my brother has one.”

“Oh.” I said going back to my pad. “Well, if you want some go ahead.”

I feel this phrasing was very important. All I told her was that she could open the can if she wanted some. I never said some what and I never instructed her to open it. Everything that happened to her in the next ten seconds was entirely her own fault.

She gives me a funny look, and then grips the top of the can in her right hand. With her left hand holding the can and her right on the lid she twists and pulls at the lid. Two spring snakes come flying out (the Pecandy can is bigger than a normal spring snake can) and she shrieks like she’s just seen a rat on the table but would realize it was just a math teacher’s toupee in a moment. The can goes flying one way, the lid sails off in the distance and bounces off a wall, and she throws up her hands to her face as if she expects these springs to go for her eyes.

“I told you it was spring snakes.” I said as she looks angrily at me.

I still maintain that this joke shouldn’t have worked, even though it did and I’m informed that it has worked later by other people. I men I told her exactly what was in the can! I followed the basic tenet of showmanship. I told her what I was going to do, then I did it, and then I told her what I just did. Okay, I made her and unwilling participant in what I was doing, but I did tell her the complete truth about what was in the can.

Those are the kind of jokes I like best, when I tell the truth and have people not believe me. Well, actually partly it’s my fault. People get annoyed with my deadpan demeanor sometimes because I can tell a joke while seeming like I’m telling them something about bridge building. I can do things without a flicker of humor or joviality. It’s a bad habit that actually can (and does) get me into trouble if people aren’t sure that I’m joking. I developed the habit as a form of protest against everything in the world being said sarcastically as if that were still new and unusual. I treat everything as serious and tend to tell my jokes that way too. It puts people off when I act like sarcasm isn’t a joke at all and that everything said is a true reflection of how things are.

Still, I don’t have much sympathy for the people who get caught out by it. It serves them right for treating me like I’m a liar or something.