It was a school camp at dusk after a big day and as the group took in the evening air along a gravel road I crept ahead through the side grass and popped up! To scare the life out of people with the yelling and the growling. I pulled moves like this a few times during our stay. Cool moves like lurking in the darkness of the camp with a torch under my face. I was quite pleased with myself.
All this scaring must have tired me out because I went to bed early on the last night. I heard the sash window open and opened my eyes in time to see what comes out of a fire hose heading towards my face. I was so humiliated by this that I didn't make the connection between my team building stunts and the lone gunman soaking me with a water cannon. I spent the trip home fuming quietly about this intense injustice.
That's the thing about being a class clown: you want them laughing with you, not at you. Then there was the time my BMX was stolen while I was shoplifting Star Wars figures. Again, my sense of outrage was real. What a teenage asshole.