Quite Possibly the Practicalest Joke Ever.

Often a great deal of set-up can go into a joke. There is always that waiting, that calm before the storm, that comes before the punch-line. And sometimes it really isn't worth it.

But sometimes it is.

17 months and four days ago exactly, (roughly the gestation period of the Sumatran Rhinoceros) Brian Young and I went to see Star Wars II: Attack of the Clones.

Maybe it was because we had both worked 8-hour graveyard shifts the night before and saw the earliest showing of the movie at around 10:00 in the morning, (our equivalent of about 3 am,) but neither of us liked it. In fact, I'd even go so far as to say we disliked it.

We soon discovered that we were in the minority.

As the weekend progressed, more and more people saw the film and more and more praise for the film reached our ears. This naturally confounded us. We got together and discussed it.

Perhaps everyone was playing an elaborate hoax on the two of us, telling us that they liked it when, in truth, they really didn't.

We discarded that theory. To pull of such a scam would require a great deal of coordination and ingenuity on everyone's parts, which is feasible. But it also would have required them all to keep a secret, and to believe people to be capable of that would be giving human beings too much credit.

So they probably weren't lying.

The only other theory: We must have seen a completely different movie than everyone else.

Was it possible? Could we have possibly gone and seen a completely different movie and not even realized it? That also sounded incredible, but was still more likely of our two theories.

When the impossible is eliminated, what is left, however improbable, must be the truth.

We concluded that we must have accidentally gone to see "The Rookie," a Disney film starring Dennis Quaid that came out around that time.

Having solved that mystery, we went on with our lives.

Flash-forward to May 12, 2003.

In the parking lot of Chili's, Brian Young is handing me my birthday present. It's the DVD of Star Wars II: Attack of the Clones.

We both share a laugh. I say, "Ha, maybe I'll actually watch this some day!"
We laugh again.

Flash-forward five months and eight days. It's October 20, 2003, aka Last Night. Somewhere in Southeast Asia, a mother Sumatran Rhinoceros is grunting with the strain of giving birth to the calf that she has been carrying for so very long. But back in Midwest United States...

I feel like watching a movie. I'm looking through my meager DVD collection, and I'm trying to decide which one. I'm thinking maybe "The Professional," which I saw for the first and last time when I spent the night at Dan Roche's house when we were high school freshman (during that brief window of time in high school when sleeping over at a friends house sober wasn't yet categorized as "overtly gay.")

Then I notice Star Wars II: Attack of the Clones. "Why not?" I say to myself. I saunter over to the living room and plop down on the mattress that is currently being used as a "fainting couch." I spend a few minutes struggling with the shrink-wrap. I've had it for so long, and yet I'd never even opened it.

I succeed in my struggle to free the movie, and I insert it into my DVD player. I press play.

A preview for an upcoming DVD release comes up. It's for "The Santa Clause 2." I skip past it. Another preview comes up. It's for "Monsters Inc." Annoying, and a bit odd. I press the "Menu" button on the remote.

But instead of the trumpeting fanfare of the Star Wars theme, I hear a solemn orchestra. And instead of a bunch of light-saber wielding Jedi and muppets, I see the silhouette of a man against the setting sun. He's tossing something in his hand. Words begin to materialize and shimmer across the bottom of the screen. I shout the title out loud without even realizing it. "THE ROOKIE?!"

Then I'm laughing so hard that my cats scramble out of the room and hide. I am concerned that I'll wake my roommates, but far more concerned that my sides will split open.

After I regain my breath, I take out the DVD and inspect it more closely. The DVD has a picture of Anakin and Yoda and spaceships and all that, but it's one of those print-your own covers that you can make with a computer. In the dim light of my living room, I hadn't even noticed. I scratch away part of it, and sure enough, it looks like "The Rookie" is underneath. Diabolical.

I've had that damn thing for over five months and I didn't realize that all this time I had really been the proud owner of "The Rookie."

And the whole time, none of my friends (if, besides Brian, they even knew) had ever let it slip that a touching story of family and following your dreams awaited me the next time I was ever in need of of an Attacking-Clones fix.

Maybe people can keep a secret. Damn, I've underestimated them. What else haven't I been told?!

I guess that's another reason I love my friends. They are always willing to put forth that extra time and effort to really make you think you've gone completely insane.

Thanks, guys.

I think the moral of this story is best summed up by the movie's tag-line: "It's never too late to believe in your dreams."

Unless, of course, you're one of the rapidly dwindling Sumatran Rhinos. They can dream all they want, but I'm pretty sure they're screwed.