Lies I’ve Told: Part Two

Hey Guys and Gals! Welcome to the second installment of Lies I’ve Told, where I recount all the scams and schemes I (almost) got away with over the years. Names and places have been changed to protect the innocent.

Before we begin, I have to preface this tale by letting all of you know that I am completely aware the story that follows might possibly be the worst lie ever told in human history. The fact that anyone entertained the possibility that this lie could have been the truth baffles me. But, I’m not here to discuss mankind’s willing suspense of disbelief, I’m here to entertain the masses with harrowing tales from my sinful past. Strap in.

The year is 2006 and I’m in the sixth grade. These years were such a formative time for a budding sociopath such as myself and little mattered to me more than looking cute and crushing people’s spirits. Isn’t that what middle school is all about? It’s sink or swim and lying was basically my floatation device.

It all started one day when I got a less than heartwarming phone call from my mother during free period. The details evade me, but if memory serves I was in trouble for something I probably did and the shock and outrage of my impending punishment caused my body to have an involuntary reaction: I began to cry. As the bell rang, signaling the beginning of 5th period, I knew I had to get myself together. I was not about to walk into that fluorescent prison hole with tears streaming down my face!  It’s a known fact that 6th graders are really just sharks with greasy hair and bad skin; I knew if they smelled blood they’d bite. There was no way for me to hide my puffy eyes and sniffling nose so I quickly realized I wouldn’t be able to lie about the fact I was crying… but I could lie about why I was crying.

But how to make a room full of apathetic tweens let this pathetic show of weakness slide? What was the one thing that white youths cared about that outweighed their distaste for human emotion? Dogs. All white kids are genetically predisposed to love dogs more than people! In fact, they’re always offended when one’s reaction to puppies doesn’t include full on Oprah Ugly-Crying.

So I walk into class, and before I even got to my seat, my known frenemy Samantha Mack shouted, “Tyler is crying! Tyler is crying!” In what should have been an Oscar-winning performance, I sniffled in my seat and mumbled, “yes, Samantha, I am. Because my dog just died.” I was immediately flanked by the deodorant-less brats offering their sympathies and I was so pleased I had to bite my lip to restrain my grin.

Well this was all fine for a time. I maintained the respect of my peers and used the whole dog thing to my advantage once or twice during playground arguments. As time passed my memory faded, which is a huge problem since the only way to be good at lying is to remember that you told a lie.

Later that year I was supposed to have a party at my house and I invited a select few from my school to attend. As I was bragging about the upcoming festivities in fifth period, I accidentally let slip that my dog, Kisses, even got a haircut just for the occasion. “But I thought Kisses was DEAD,” Samantha yelled, not missing a beat. Panic began to rise as I realized my mistake, but I was born a liar and I certainly wasn’t going to go down without a fight. I countered, “Yes, Kisses is Dead, thank you so much for reminding me, Samantha. But guess what?! My mom get me a new dog, the same breed as Kisses, roughly the same age, and we decided to name her Kisses too!”

And there it is people. The biggest flat-out lie I’ve ever told. And guess what? Those snot-pickers believed it. Every word. Did they think it was weird? Yeah. But no one batted an eye when they got to my house and saw the “reincarnation” of my “dead” dog. So it just goes to show, this must really be the greatest country in the world because I blurted out the most half-baked lie in recorded history with zero repercussions.


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