During the past four weeks several pranks have been presented in the Thursday outdoors column. Others have contributed pranks they have pulled on others or experienced themselves.

Feel free to send along pranks you have experienced. Remember, harmless pranks only.

From Cousin Cheryl Driggs Elkins:

Unless someone has experienced it, they can't possibly understand how short-sheeting can disorient a person. More likely, they are thinking the victim must be some kind of idiot to not be able to figure out right away what was happening. So let me tell you my own short-sheeting experience.

It was about 20 to 25 years ago when my sister, Janice, and I were spending a night with another sister, Bonnie, in Spokane. Janice and I were sharing one of Bonnie's spare bedrooms containing two beds. Janice went to bed before I did, so when I went in, I did not want to turn on the light and disturb her since the only light was the one on the ceiling.

I was making my way into bed, in the pitch dark, pulled the top covers back and crawled in. I had never heard of short-sheeting and I'm telling you, it's a very odd feeling to try to push your feet down under the covers, only to have them stop less than half-way into the bed!

After pushing hard and the sheet just not giving way, you struggle to find the correct way to get under the covers, but with the top sheet tucked in so tightly, it's quite a barrier. Eventually, you just stop struggling and pull your feet back out and lay on top of the top sheet.

The next morning, Janice was already up and with everyone else at the dining room table when I got up. At first they all just glanced my way, but then the laughter broke out and I didn't think it would ever stop. Their plan worked perfectly on gullible me, right down to making sure Janice went to bed before I did so I wouldn't turn on the light.

I guess Janice had a hard time staying awake, all comfy in her own bed, which was about four feet from mine, but even worse, she was having a very hard time keeping from laughing as she could hear me struggling in the dark.

This is one of those fun family memories you wrote about, completely harmless, to have tucked away in my head that gives me the greatest of pleasure to think about.

Sometimes a prank doesn't work as planned. Here is a foiled prank from Cousin Susan Grimshaw McClelland:

My husband, Tim, and I traveled with some family last year and one group was not arriving until late. Since they were traveling with their kids, they asked that we check into their room and set up their air mattress, which the kids would use. We were eager to oblige because we decided to short-sheet their bed.

However, as we learned the next morning, our prank was not even realized. Since they arrived late and they were tired, Tim's sister and brother-in-law decided to sleep on the air mattress. Their boys climbed into the bed and told their parents that something was wrong with the sheets. Since everyone was tired, Tim's sister told the boys to just lay on top and go to sleep.

They never even knew that we had done a dastardly deed.

Another from Cousin Susan:

When I was a child, a very innocent child at that, and an unsuspecting child, my own father, Vern Grimshaw, pulled a prank on me. He actually pulled more than one, but this was probably the worst.

It must have been a Saturday morning, because I was sitting on the living room floor watching cartoons. Very innocently mind you. Dad came into the room with a glass of milk and seemingly took a drink. He then told me that he was pretty full and he asked if I would finish off his milk.

I said sure and just about threw up as I took a big swig. It was buttermilk. I was in the living room and had to swallow it. In our household of six, Dad was the only one that drank that crap.

From family history:

In the 1920s local pranksters would make the rounds on Halloween and tip over various outhouses throughout the countryside where my mother, Enid Grimshaw Clay, and her parents and siblings lived in Goble, Oregon. This was a harmless prank, unless someone was inside.

After a prank has been successfully accomplished, the object is to out due the pranksters. My grandfather, the late Ray Grimshaw, was prepared the next year. He simply moved the outhouse back four feet.

From my mother, Enid Grimshaw Clay:

While attending Rainier High School, the closest high school to Goble, various friends would go to a movie on the weekends and then to one of various cafes in the surrounding towns of Clatskanie, St. Helens, Scappoose and even traveling to Portland sometimes.

The tables in the restaurant booths in those days had a raised rim or border around the edge. This made it impossible to slide anything off without going up and over the rim, such as when cleaning and wiping the table.

One time a waitress was especially rude to the group, acting as if she wished these high school students hadn't stopped at her restaurant.

This upset group of students filled a couple water glasses to the top, tightly placed a napkin on top of the glass and turned it upside down. The excess part of the napkin is removed from the edge of the glass.

The students paid their bill and left, realizing the upside down and full glass of water couldn't be removed from the table without all of the water spilling the table.

Dennis note: Shame on you Mom. I'm not sure if this was a harmless prank or an ornery prank. By the way, I tried this and the napkin is able to hold the water in the glass, if the glass is turned over in a fast manner. The white napkin seems to disappear at the top of the glass, which is now resting on the table.

These days the trick or prank won't work, because restaurant tables are rimless. Plus making such a mess, as a glass of water spilling on a table and possibly booth seats and floor, does not meet our criteria and standards for a harmless prank.

The Grant County Historical Society has compiled several volumes of Grant County history. The books are available for purchase at the Historical Society Museum gift shop in Ephrata.

I bought the series in 2009 and secured permission to relay some of the history through this column.

Memories of Grant County, compiled from taped interviews by the Grant County Historical Society.

Today we backtrack a bit and then continue the story of Coulee City, by C.K. "Slim" Jolly, recorded July 13, 1976:

Before I was 16, I probably wouldn't go to town more than once a year and the town would be Mansfield or Bridgeport, which probably had 300 or 400 people, or less.

Then in 1919 we moved to just about 10 miles out of Coulee City in the Mold and St. Andrews area, and farmed there. I went to school at Mold for two or three years, and then my Dad rented a ranch at St. Andrews right across from the schoolhouse. This was quite a treat, because I had never walked less than two miles to school and here we could go right across the road to school. It was a real treat.

My mother's family was an old-time family and they had homesteaded in the Leahy area and their name was Campbell. Their closest neighbor was the late Horace Bozarth's folks, and he, until the time of his death, still owned his old homestead, or his folk's homestead. There aren't any family left in that area, that is, in the Leahy area.

I have some sisters close to Coulee City. My mother's family has some nephews that are on the first farm that we were on by the name of Nellis. I am wondering just what it would be like to all of a sudden from our present style of life to just go back 80 years, all at once, or to come from 80 years ago to our present life style.

I think that would be worse, to come from 80 years ago to what our lifestyle is now, because I think it would just about scare a person to where he would find a hole and climb in it. Don't you think?

Just think of all that hay that was put up at that time. They used to use a pitchfork and wagon and now the hay goes into a stack without touching it by hand. Even pick it out of the field and stack it and 'touch it by hand. I wouldn't want to go back to that era. I kinda like our lifestyle. Some people talk of the good old days, but in the time I can remember, back when I was 12 to 14 years old, I kinda like our style of living. I really do!

There is one thing I didn't mention. Right at our home, on the four corners north of Leahy, the Indians used to come and get water, and camp. I can remember that my brother and sisters and I would sneak around keeping out of sight of the Indians, because we didn't know for sure just what they'd do. And you know, their youngsters were doing the same things to us. I thought that was kinda interesting at an Indian encampment.

My brother and I were coming home from school one day and there was a rock no higher than that table there, kinda sloped down, but anyhow my brother and I climbed up on this rock. I got down and I told him to get down, and he said no that it was too high.

"I'll get hurt, and I want you to help me," he said. I wouldn't help him because I knew it wouldn't hurt him and so, being kinda independent, I went home.

My mother said, "Where's Dan," I said, "Oh, he's up there," "Up where?" "Up there on that rock." "What's he doing there?" "Well, he got up there and wouldn't come down. It wouldn't hurt him if he fell, but he couldn't fall." Mother went down and he was laying on the rock asleep. She went home, got a switch, but I was the one who got the switching.

I suppose all of you know where Pilot Rock is, up on the west side of Grand Coulee, the highest point until you get clear over to Waterville. You can see it from Davenport and Mansfield and many areas so they named it Pilot Rock.

The early settlers tell me they used it as a landmark for traveling from one area to another. Carl Lewis might be interested in photographing that from the air. It is right in the corner of my field, just outside of my field and what was Vern Adams' ranch.