I was reading CNN.com today and came across the article “Lies we should stop telling each other (and ourselves)” shared by The Frisky in honour of National Tell The Truth Day which apparently happened sometime last week. Possibly on July 7. Or July 2. Or maybe it’s coming up on August 17.
It’s hard to say; the Internet is giving me conflicting information, and Wikipedia is totally failing me.
Anyway, I’m not necessarily a fan of The Frisky or the views its writers share, but this particular article’s title reminded me of a Story A Day Challenge prompt (from way back in May) that had something to do with telling lies. The prompt, in sum, suggested I write a fictional story that involved telling a lie. Because, apparently, we all tell them.
So, this is what I wrote that day, but never shared.
I can remember all the bad things that I’ve ever done in grade school.
In kindergarten, I disobeyed the recess monitor and attempted to shimmy my way between an iron-link fence and a giant mud puddle. The puddle won. I slipped and fell in, ruining my pink shorts.
In first grade, Ms. Klingler selected two students on Mondays to share an event that had happened during the weekend. She would then write them on the chalkboard. When my turn came, I told her I’d gone to Alaska. When she didn’t believe me, I said, “Oops, I mean, my grandmother went to Alaska.” I didn’t get anything written on the board that day.
In second grade, I followed the leader and sprayed water from the sink faucet in the girls’ bathroom all over the floors. That landed me on the steps for recess. At which time, I got in trouble for throwing stones (that someone else threw) at windows. I definitely picked the wrong leader to follow that day.
In third grade, I blamed my poor penmanship on another student whom I was certain had erased random parts of my pencil-written assignment. Mrs. Howe didn’t believe me. I spent an entire recess writing “Jill Duling” over and over and over and over on a piece of paper.
In fourth grade, I “borrowed” a dollar from my parents to purchase a snazzy, neon-green slap bracelet. I was so convicted of borrowing the dollar that I confessed the same day. I think as soon as I got home.
In fifth grade, I told Kyle Blankemeyer to shut up. For several years weeks days after that, I was fairly certain that I was going to go to hell for doing so.
Sixth, seventh and eighth grades sort of fuzz together, so, I suspect I was fairly innocent during my middle school years. And, I’m sure my former classmates can attest to that being true.
My parents are pleased, I know.
Ha. Don’t ask me where I was going with that storyline.
And, for the record, I think that Frisky article is ridiculous. And, that’s the truth.