Over the years, I developed something of a skill for lying thanks to nearly constant practice at home. As I'm sure I've mentioned before, I pretty much hated growing up on the farm, and there was a very specific reason that I hated it: the work. Always there was work to do. Since we raised cattle AND farmed, the year was pretty much consumed with something going on (whereas a person who only farms could, for the most part, find a second job from fall until spring and cows are pretty low maintenance from spring through fall), and I did everything in my power to get out of that work. My farm equipment had more "breakdowns" than anybody else's. Eventually, the family started to catch on so I had to work some minor sabotaging skills into my repertoire as well so my lies were technically truths.
Anyway, the next Big Lie I told--and the first one that I remember getting away with--came my sophomore year of high school.
Since I went to a small school, there were only three sports offered over the course of the year: football (volleyball for the girls), basketball, and track. I hated all of them on principle, but I hated basketball the most because, well, it's a stupid sport--nothing but endless running and throwing a ball at a metal ring attached to a piece of plywood, what could be less fun? As such, I went out for football and track (again, to get out of work, since playing in sports was an acceptable excuse to get farm kids out of doing farm work, and I was willing to play a stupid sports game in order to win the getting out of work game).
Just about everyone went out for the sports that were available because there's not much else to do out there, but the kids who didn't were able to ride the Pep Bus to an away game if another ride didn't present itself. Usually, if I went to one of these away games, I rode with someone who had a car or, when I could drive myself, drove myself because, let's face it, Pep Buses are lame. But one time, several upper classmen and I (mostly them, since they were seniors and I was just kind of along for the ride, so to speak) devised a brilliant plan. One of the finest aspects of going to an away game was the getting liquored up part, but that meant either driving home drunk or having a designated driver. How could we ALL get drunk and not run the risk of killing ourselves or getting arrested?
The Pep Bus! We could be chauffeured to the game and back home while we partook in our beverages of choice in the very back seats!
It was ground breaking in its stupidity, of course. School buses in the winter are not what you'd call well-ventilated. If someone farts in the front row, before too long, everyone in the bus gets to share in the ass-airy goodness. To make matters worse, we chose the stinkiest of alcohols: bourbon. Everclear we might have gotten away with. Bourbon, not a chance.
Our plan sounded like a good idea when we discussed it initially. We brought a half case of soda and a big ass bottle of Wellers with us. We drank the soda down a third of the way or so then we topped it up with the bourbon. Of course this only served to "breath" the liquor more and spread the smell of it throughout the bus. We were scarcely twenty miles from our home town when the chaperon and the bus driver started actively scanning the bus for where the smell was coming from.
Long story short, despite the fact that we managed to sneak the bottle of bourbon out of the bus with us and throw it away, we didn't think to bring the empty cans, which still reeked of booze, along with us, so we got busted. But, then, considering we were stupid enough to try it in the first place, it wasn't too surprising that we compounded our stupidity later on.
We all got in school suspension for it because one of the kid's moms ratted out everyone involved instead of just letting her kid suffer the consequences. I, however, didn't get into too much more trouble at home because I lied to my folks. I swore up and down that I didn't drink any of the bourbon, but I had helped them sneak it onto the bus because I was the only one carrying a bag that day. There was an ounce of truth to this lie, which made it all the more believable. I told them I didn't drink because I had to pee almost as soon as we left town (and I have a notoriously small bladder that my folks had to stop for probably a thousand times while I was growing up). So they bought it. I still got grounded for being a dumbass, which I deserved, but it was a fairly mild grounding compared to what it would have been if I'd been busted for actual drinking.
Note: Actually, I didn't drink that much on the bus because, after the first can of soda-booze, I DID have to pee really bad, but I did drink, so I did lie and I did get away with it. Finally, about five years ago, I admitted to Mom that I had been drinking on the bus, too, but by then she couldn't really do much more than laugh about it. In your face, Mom!
Eventually, lying became something of a game for me thanks to the concept of Excused Absences in college. Most of my teachers only allowed us one or two unexcused absences over the course of a semester, and I hated morning classes and did everything in my power to figure ways out of them without hurting my grade too bad. But I couldn't just keep calling in with fevers or really bad colds (which are hard to fake on the phone anyway) all the time. I had any of a number of non-fatal ailments while I was in college, as far as my teachers were concerned. But, before long, that grew boring to me and I began a contest with myself to come up with the most believable excuse that I possibly could that was complete and utter bullshit.
The trick is to pick something that nobody would ever doubt you were lying about. Admit to something that nobody would ever admit to, and people will believe you. I had some doozies.
But I will just share my crowning achievement. The best lie I ever told that was completely believed by the person I was telling it to (at least as far as he ever said anything about it to me, anyway). It got me out of a choir practice, of all things, so in that sense it was totally wasted.
My choir director knew my parents were farmers--he had grown up on a farm, too, so he had a pretty good idea of what went on there. I used this knowledge to craft the most perfectly believable but utterly ridiculous balderdash lie ever. I told him that a shipment of bull semen was coming in for my dad at the airport during class time and he had a cow with a prolapsed uterus at home that he couldn't leave to make the trip into town. So I had to run to the airport to pick up the jug of sperm. For this lie, I got to go back to bed for one hour. Win!
I love that lie for all its many parts. It is my crowning achievement in life.
You can't see me now, but I'm bowing to the crowd of adoring fans gathered around me. Thank you very much.
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