must be a rookie mistake

Late last night I made a trip over to the General Store. For those of you who are too urban to know, a general store is like a small grocery store. It’s where we mountain folk have to shop because the possibility of a Vons opening up here is about as likely as Danny Evans teaching etiquette classes at the Y. Until recently, my late night trips to the general store were very peaceful because I would go when the store was closed. The lights were off and the doors were locked. It’s a little thing we like to call ‘midnight shopping’. Now that summer has started, the store is open until 11pm which means I no longer get the store to myself when I go in.

As I was walking down an aisle headed to the back for a gallon of milk, this awkward boy stepped out in front me, completely oblivious to the concept of personal space. His head seemed to jump off his body. That’s partially because he was suddenly standing so close to me that his face was about to encounter the girls. In order to avoid him running off like a giddy little school girl to tell his dorky little friends some highly exaggerated heroic story of how manly he is for 'copping a feel', I quickly took a step back. With this new safe-distance perspective, I realized his head wasn’t jumping off his body. Much like most kids his age (and toddlers as well) it was just way too big for the scrawny little frame holding it up. He was wearing a black shirt, complete with screen printed lapels, bow tie, chest pocket and rose.

This half-second collision braced me for what was coming.

“What’s this say?” he asks as he points to the label on the bottle of maple syrup he thrusts into my face (again un-aware of personal space) “I don’t know how to read.”

I look him straight in the eye and say, “That’s a lie. Nice try, kiddo.” I try to walk away.

“You’re saying you don’t believe me?!?” he yells. Yes, yells.

“Nope. I don’t believe you. You might be dressed stupid, but you’re not dressed poor. That means you’re not underprivileged. And you’re at a camp with all these other yahoos because you’re in their same grade. That tells me you’ve passed a FEW grades along the way and there’s no way that happened if you’re too dumb to know what’s in your hand. You can read, now stop lying. You’re no good at it.”

I wish I could say that was the end of that conversation, but he kept on at the attempt to convince me that he was some pathetic kid who can’t read. The thing is, he was holding one of those basic recognizable items. Any kid who’s been hopped up on sugar from syrup and frozen pre-fab waffles only had to try it once to know forever what it is. And that ability had nothing to do with reading. Amateur. It's a basic mistake that ruins the lie. You have to pad it with realistic circumstance.

If you’re going to lie, think it through and make it believable. If you need help, just ask. I’m an exceptional liar.