The man was at the end of his rope. Someone had stolen his car keys and the thief was tormenting him with the automatic starter. Our victim’s car would start up randomly at odd hours. He would run out and shut the car off, but it would start up again moments later.

One can imagine the feeling of invasion and vulnerability. One of his most expensive and prized possessions and someone else had control over it. Picture the man running outside, eyes squinting with suspicion and rage as he tried to spot the culprit. Meanwhile, his car roars to life as if under a power of its own.

He called the police. Please, he implored them. Find the person who has the car starter and make them stop. The cops promised to look into it. Then the phone rang again at the station house and the long-suffering victim was much calmer. He had found his keys, he told them. They were in the dryer, tumbling around with a heap of clothes, the bumpy ride activating the car starter at irregular intervals.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Bad things happen when a man calls up the courage to tackle a dryer all by himself. Me, I steer clear of the things. I have ever since the incident.

But my point is this: The ending to that sad tale aside, gizmos have always been a good source of mischief. When I was a lad, a group of friends and I would borrow an electric garage door opener and drive for hours to see how many random garages we could open with it. It worked quite a lot, too. Something about frequencies, signals from space or some crazy science none of us understood.

What we did understand was that we could wet our pants every time a stranger’s garage door rose at the click of a button under our sophomoric fingers. I could wet my pants right now recalling the man who was mowing his lawn when his garage door rose, ghost-like, behind him. He looked at it, jumped, and then took off running. I mean, this grown man with the nice house and impressive lawn was actually bolting because he thought his garage was about eat him.

Excuse me while I go for fresh pants.

An extremely deviant person I work with now tells the story of a device he invented himself. He used a long string with a nut or bolt tied to the end and affixed it to a slat on a neighbor’s house window. Then, taking cover in darkness across the street, he would tug the string repeatedly so that it sounded as though someone were tapping on the window. Pure hysteria, he said, if done while the family inside was gathered for supper.

I consider this guy the high priest of this kind of mischief. Years ago, when remote control was still a luxury, he figured out how to use the technology to turn his Christmas lights on and off at the click of a button. Unfortunately for the people who lived on nearby blocks, he also figured out how he could automate their holiday lights as well. And he did so, during stealthy rides across town. Sort of the Grinch without the mean streak.

Me, I was low-tech. I had a tiny, metal gadget that could be stuffed into a tailpipe where it would exist harmlessly until the car owner started driving. Once the acceleration began, the gizmo, which I paid less than a dollar for, would emit a high-pitched whistle that would disturb dogs and cause other drivers to stare.

I used this device once on a friend who had just bought a cherry Trans Am that he prized above all else. The last I remember of the scene, he was under the hood of the car, red-faced and swearing as he tried to find the source of the screeching. At that point, I did what all self-respecting pranksters should do. I fled.

I also had a cigarette lighter that squirted water. I had a plastic ketchup bottle that squirted a thin string of red yarn. I went through a dozen hand buzzers and I still pick up whoopie cushions when I can.

It is not inconceivable to imagine that primitive man made early use of fire by leaving burning bags of dog poo at the mouth of a rival’s cave. The impulse to cause amusement through the psychological torture and embarrassment of another is a very old one. Studies should be done to determine whether animals play practical jokes on each other. Perhaps birds leave fake worms around and then hide in nearby branches to watch as friends try to eat them. Perhaps dogs secretly leave plastic mounds of human poo to horrify their dog friends.

With April Fool’s Day looming, all the geniuses of the practical joke world will come out of hiding to put their year-long plans on exhibit. But the man with the keys in the dryer has already topped them. In a stroke off unplanned genius, he pulled off the best gag of them all. He managed to prank himself.

Mark LaFlamme is the Sun Journal crime reporter. Visit his blog at www.sunjournal.com.