The art of lying
“I really did,” Bill assures us, nodding vigorously. “I single-handedly turned that car over and saved all the people in it. That policeman said it was the darnedest thing he ever saw. I was a real strong man in my twenties,” he said, flexing his biceps. “You couldn’t find no stronger. You got any more coffee left in the pot?”
As I pour him a cup and stir in the cream and sugar, I realize I am in for a long night of tall tales with Bill swearing every word to be true. This particular Bill is a friend of my family, but many Bills are out there looking for listeners.
I wonder what makes people tell outlandish lies that no one over four will fall for. All too obvious are the motives of the chocolate-covered three-year-old who tells her mother she hasn’t been in the cookie jar. My friend Bill’s motives are not so clear. Entertainment? Ego? Who knows? I’ve been listening to his stories for decades, and I still don’t know.
The stories I get from students come close to high fantasy too but have taken on a new twist. The motivation is the same though. Gone are the days of “the dog ate my homework;” now the computer ate it.
“You see, Mrs. Ellis, I had my paper completely ready. All I had to do was print, but when I tried, my printer went crazy. You wouldn’t believe all the noises it was making. I swear. I knew I couldn’t turn in my paper in rainbow colors. I’d rather take a late grade than turn in less than my best. By the way, I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. I won’t be here, but I’ll have my paper when I come the next day.”
The next student has practiced a bit more. “Mrs. Ellis, I swear I told that stupid computer to save, but it lost my paper. I’ll have to start over tonight. I know you told us to save these papers in at least two places and I did, but Mama washed my brand-new flash drive today in the washing machine. I’ve told her a thousand times to always check my pockets for it. She never listens to me. I’m sorry, Mrs. Ellis. I’ll do better. I promise. I guess I’ll just have to check for it myself.”
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I wonder what makes people tell outlandish lies that no one over four will fall for. All too obvious are the motives of the chocolate-covered three-year-old who tells her mother she hasn’t been in the cookie jar. My friend Bill’s motives are not so clear. Entertainment? Ego? Who knows? I’ve been listening to his stories for decades, and I still don’t know.
The stories I get from students come close to high fantasy too but have taken on a new twist. The motivation is the same though. Gone are the days of “the dog ate my homework;” now the computer ate it.
“You see, Mrs. Ellis, I had my paper completely ready. All I had to do was print, but when I tried, my printer went crazy. You wouldn’t believe all the noises it was making. I swear. I knew I couldn’t turn in my paper in rainbow colors. I’d rather take a late grade than turn in less than my best. By the way, I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. I won’t be here, but I’ll have my paper when I come the next day.”
The next student has practiced a bit more. “Mrs. Ellis, I swear I told that stupid computer to save, but it lost my paper. I’ll have to start over tonight. I know you told us to save these papers in at least two places and I did, but Mama washed my brand-new flash drive today in the washing machine. I’ve told her a thousand times to always check my pockets for it. She never listens to me. I’m sorry, Mrs. Ellis. I’ll do better. I promise. I guess I’ll just have to check for it myself.”
If you'd like to continue reading this article, subscribe to The News-Banner by call 912-367-2468.
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