The main problem is: I am not a very good liar. I either start laughing before the punch line or I start feeling guilty and spill the beans all over myself.
The first lie I ever recall telling was out of sheer necessity. I accidentally wet my pants while playing outside one fine day, unable to "hold it in." I was probably six or seven, well beyond toilet training years, and mortified with myself. When I went inside to change clothes and encountered Mama Bore in the hallway, panic set in. "There was water in the seat of the lawn chair from the rain yesterday and I sat down before checking it," blurted out of my mouth without hesitation. Mom seemed to believe me, but a few decades later I 'fessed up about lying to her. I think there's something in the Holy Bible that sort of goes like: "Thou shalt not lie to your mother about peeing your pants," so I wanted to set the record straight with Mom and God and clear my conscience.
The absolute worst lie I ever told was when I was 23 and Dr. Maureen and I were working as KODE-TV news girls during our "Lost Year" in Joplin. This one was a doozy. When I wanted to join a group of friends on a boozy float trip in the Ozarks rather than go to work all weekend, I told a co-worker that my father had had a heart attack. Now, mind you, I hadn't even seen him in several years. What did I know? Why not just say I was sick---of the job? Well, the co-worker had such a nose for the news that he could smell a stupid story anywhere within the 4-state area, mainly because he was the biggest bullshitter at the station. I was had. Not good and never again. A lesson was learned. Lying and the workplace do not mix.
Most of my lies are of the "little white" variety said to keep the peace and avoid hurt feelings. You know what I mean? Haven't they just rolled off your tongue in moments of good judgment? "Oh, your baby is adorable!" instead of, "My god, that's the homeliest child I've ever seen!" (that last line is borrowed from my late great aunt Ethel who pretty much had disdain for all little kids except me, of course). Or, "Your new hairstyle is fabulous!" instead of, "What the hell happened to your hair?" I am often the recipient of such lies, and that is all right with me. "You're looking great!" my friends say when we get together. Sure, great for a lousy bag of prunes maybe. Overripe ones. Go ahead and tell me another one.
Anyway, once I've finally figured out the grandest of all grand April Fool's jokes or fibs, or conspiracies to pull on Big Bore tomorrow, I'll have just one more problem. How am I going to say it with a straight face? Especially one that's so damned wrinkled? I'd better start practicing now.
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