Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Making the bed to lie in it

In order to hide his bad grades, an 11 year old boy claimed he lost his report card while escaping from kidnappers. He made a couple of key errors, however. For example, though kidnappers allegedly took his bookbag, the kid was somehow able to hang onto his tuba case (or whatever band instrument he played).

Still, that whopper took guts. I told lots of lies as a child, lots and lots of lies, but never anything that would involve the police.

Remember when you first learned you could actually alter reality? All it took was a simple, “No, I didn’t,” or “That’s not mine.” The early lies were probably the most believable; it was the evolution into storytelling that caused the problems. The elaboration – scene setting, character development, plot, climax, denoument. And then trying to remember it all when called back to testify before another parental unit.

Perhaps my most successful lie involved some mime and one prop. About the only way we could stay home from grammar school was to suffer a near-death experience. So I whipped me up a jar of fake vomit, and this I hid in my room for special occasions. Can’t remember what went into it, though I know an egg was involved. Early on the mornings in question, I’d shake this baby up into a frothy gaseous cloud, then go running to the bathroom closest to my parent’s bedroom.

“Bwaaaaack!” I’d wretch, and pour some liquid into the toilet. A few more bwaaaack’s followed by a couple of coughs, and I had a day in bed, drinking ginger ale, sketching, and watching Dick Van Dyke reruns.

One time I forgot to hide the jar and my mom happened upon the mystery mixture. All I had to do was fall back on an old reliable. "I don't know, it's not mine."

"Simplify, simplify, simplify." Timeless advice, really.

35 comments:

  1. HAR!!!! I'm laughing so hard at that terrific tale KB! I was famous for "little white lies" when a guy would call and I didn't want to go out on a date, back in the day. Damn, I must have told them so convincingly that word got out. I haven't had an offer in many moons. Crime don't pay. Rememer that.

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  2. Dick Van Dyke was in reruns!!! ???

    Well, if you say so Karin.

    When I was in grade school I don't think there was any such thing as reruns. TV had barely been invented.

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  3. Make that 'were' any such thing.

    I'm glad I caught that before you did.

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  4. The worst was always the cross-examination.

    GG

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  5. This is genius. Makes me wish I were a child so I could try it out.

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  6. Jean is right. Pure genius.

    I hated second grade and frequently faked a tummy ache or head ache to stay home from school. My teacher's response to the head ache? "Children don't get head aches."

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  7. The recall to the stand was/were always the killer time!

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  8. Thats hilarious. Did your sister do the same thing?

    All i had to do was put the thermometer up to the light bulb. Ramona was clueless.

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  9. We would all board the bus, make hissing sounds that mimic air coming out of a tire. Once it actually worked. The tire went flat... and we went home instead of on to school. WOW! No one admitted a thing when asked... it was my first time to experience unity, too!

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  10. Sure, an egg is the clue here.

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  11. My bed was next to the heater. I could put the thermometer and my forehead against it and work up a "real" fever.

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  12. Some of you had a lighter touch than I. Before I discovered the miracle of fake throw-up, I tried the thermometer in the heating pad trick. I sent that mercury soaring to the top and me mum wasn't fooled for a second.

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  13. Oh, and I liked Brenda's "we are the world" method of ditching school.

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  14. Wayne: It's gotta be: "...were any such things..." or "...was any such thing..."

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  15. Good stuff, Karin. I never learned to lie; never faked being sick. Never stayed home when I wasn't sick. There were times when I was sick that my dad would question it. Since I wasn't faking, I felt guilty even staying home when I was sick. This is not a good thing. I see that my 50 minutes is up.

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  16. Maybe that should be "my 50 minutes are up..."

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  17. HahahaArrrr!! {Sorry, just warming up for Saturday.} Our mum drummed 'the Boy who cried Wolf' into us, so I was never game enough to fake a sickie.

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  18. KB, sounds like you're really good at writing lies. I think you could start a whole series of posts on this subject. I'm not even gonna buy that was your "most succesful lie."

    I think you could easily write something to top that. And that's the truth.

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  19. "I don't know," is also quite effective. As is "Not me," and "Oh...I thought you said 'yes'/'no'/go ahead and kill your sister. Although my personal favorite is "What? I can't hear you?"

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  20. With 8 siblings the option to lying is simply to say one of the others did it. Point to the youngest because they were never punished. If it was really bad and you needed big guns, you could always bribe one of the older ones to take the blame. Money for the movies was always a winner. Not that I EVER did any of this. Remember, I was the Saint.

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  21. The best lies have the least details.
    Do kids read this?

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  22. I was a really good liar - and then I got married. Can't tell a lie if there's someone around who will blow it for you every time.
    I don't think I ever used props though - very imaginative.
    D VanD reruns were great. How come there were never reruns of Room 222 or the Mod Squad. Were they that bad?
    PS - My cactus stands corrected. I had never heard of the eu... Thx.

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  23. like Mister Earl---I never faked---and often got accused of such. I do recall the time I heard my mother tell someone over the phone that I had "decided" to get the chickenpox. Yeah, faked those itchy spots that I still have some scars from thankyouverymuch.

    I see my time is up too.

    and Tash--they DID rerun Room 222 and Mod Squad, eventually.

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  24. Great life lessons, Karin. One thing I did that wasn't exactly lying but not kosher either would be to seek permission while my mom was sleeping. Early on Saturday mornings, my brother and I would get dressed and ready to go. I'd slip into my parents' room and gently shake my sleeping mom's shoulder, just enough to get some response. Then I'd say, "Mom, Mike and me are going to [insert usually forbidden activity here--a favorite was 'go hang out at the bluffs'], okay?" We'd get a muttered "uhm-hmmm" and we were off. We always caught hell later, but felt we had her on a technicality.

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  25. Oh, wow, you're a mad scientist liar! As others mentioned, I never got much further than the heated thermometer....

    Revisionist history is so much a part of our culture these days, I'm not even sure we recognize lying as lying anymore.

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  26. Do you know, I had a gargantuan reply to everyone and it disappeared? Honest. No, honest.

    WV: Table. Cards on the table.

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  27. Check the dogs, Karin. One of them probably ate it.

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  28. This dog didn't eat it. That's the truth.
    I actually saved KB's gargantuan reply. That's no lie. I'll post it once I'm done twittering time away.

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  29. Hi Karen !! Well i got my report card signed from some one else when i was in 7th class..But i liked this post..It regained my memories..Unseen Rajasthan

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  30. The only two whoopings I remember were for lying (idiotic lies that didn't have a chance). So I became a dreary, honest little boy scout. (till high school).

    Another winner, AH. You just refuse to go near Mr. Ordinary, don't you.

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  31. My mother always told me that it was a small world and she would always find out....I do remember the few times I did stay home from school...kissing the television when Sheriff John came on and telling him to wait for me so I could marry him...(is that why I'm married to a police chief???) And then there were the Tarzan movies...my mom was a sucker for Johnny Weismuller in Tarzan, so whenever I was home, if Tarzan was on...I got to watch tv!!!

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  32. That's a riot. Although, I think the concoction you'd whipped up in the jar would have made me lose my cookies for real!

    My biggest lie involved a neighbourhood cat I picked up. I was small, so I tossed his front paws over my shoulders and supported his bum with my hands. Trouble was, he didn't know this was the plan, so he raked his claws down my face instead. When I went crying around the corner of the house, with blood streaming down my face, I didn't admit to picking up the cat in the first place. I was more hurt by his rejection than the cuts, but I didn't want to get in trouble with my parents for picking up a strange animal. I was in my 20's before I admitted the truth to my parents about that.

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  33. Carolynn: You have a point here. Of course it’s more complicated.
    Anyway, I see you have experience / made up your own reflections.

    I like your view to life. It’s not always easy.

    What do you feel about the cat today?

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