Which One’s the Lie?

This past week, I’ve enjoyed reading the comments y’all made on this post. I think it’s especially funny how so many of you can’t believe I killed two pets. And I love that I got so many comments and that some of you lurkers came out of hiding! (Now that you’re out, can you please STAY out and comment some more? Pretty please?!)

So, here’s the answer: #4 is the lie! My brother never handcuffed me in the attic. I’m pretty sure he handcuffed me at some point in our childhood, but it wasn’t for three hours and I wasn’t abandoned in the attic.

And THAT means the other six are all true. Egads! Before y’all go getting all PETA on me, let me explain each of them.

1. I really did believe I was a witch and had special powers when I was little. I believed inanimate objects were alive too, kind of like the talking chairs and clock in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. Yep, that’s me, overactive imagination and all!

2. I went through a short phase when I started rationing my words in case I was allowed only a certain amount before I died. I think this phase lasted about an hour, until I threw caution to the wind and decided I might as well die young because nothing was going to shut me up. I’m still on that talking streak, you know.

3. When I was in first grade and Jackson was in fifth grade, my dad started his own company in his business partner’s basement. Mom was the bookkeeper, and she would take my brother and I to the partner’s house. We’d get in all kinds of trouble, messing around in their house and backyard while Mom was trying to work. One day, we were being hooligans and playing in Mom’s Buick. It had a button in the glove compartment that you pushed to pop the trunk lid open. Jackson and I decided to take turns in the trunk, and one person would pop it to let the other person out. We did this for a while, then Jackson had the brilliant idea to get in the trunk together. I remember laying there beside him as he lowered the trunk lid on us. He said he wasn’t going to close it all the way; he just wanted to see what it was like in the dark. (I realize now how idiotic that was – as if the trunk looked any different with BOTH of us in it as opposed to just one of it inside.) Of course, the trunk came down too fast and latched. We were STUCK. We started yelling and kicking to get out, but we couldn’t. Now, mind you, this was in Georgia. And it was NOT winter time. I don’t recall it being the dog days of summer, but it was definitely warm out because I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. This could have turned disastrous! We kept kicking and yelling, hoping Mom could hear us inside. She didn’t. We were panicking, and Jackson told me to stop talking and breathe less, to conserve air. He also told me to take off my shirt – I think this was so I could ball it up over my mouth and breathe through it to conserve air. Then he got an umbrella that was in the trunk with us and tried to pry open the trunk with it. (Mom was NOT pleased later when she saw the bent trunk!) To this day, I can still remember being inside that trunk, crying because I thought I was going to die in there. I had the Journey song “Who’s Crying Now” playing in my head, and even at age six I knew that was ludicrous. After at least 30 minutes inside the trunk, someone finally heard us and got Mom. She came and opened the trunk, and we were so relieved to escape. Jackson and I were in big trouble, but at least we were alive.

5. (I skipped #4, since it’s the lie.) Yes, I killed my brother’s mouse. BY ACCIDENT, people. Truly! (Although you might think it was for revenge after reading #3, huh?) In middle school, Jackson had a science experiment that used a mouse. No, it wasn’t animal testing or anything like that! Anyway, he had this mouse in a glass fish aquarium, with the cedar chips inside and all that. He had a wooden birdhouse inside the tank for the mouse to climb in. The birdhouse opened with a lid that pivoted on a dowel. When the lid was open, it created a space behind it. One day I was peeking into the aquarium (I had been told NOT TO, so I didn’t mess up the experiment), and the mouse crawled into that space behind the lid. I closed the lid without knowing he was there, and must have snapped his spine. The good news is he died without pain, since I am pretty sure the death was instantaneous. The bad news is I was so horrified by what I did and so afraid I’d get caught doing it and be in trouble, that I just walked away and left the mouse corpse and didn’t tell anyone what happened. Jackson’s science experiment was ruined (I wonder what grade he got on it?), and the secret was mine for about 10 years. I finally confessed to Jackson and Mom years later, much to their shock.

6. Yes, I also killed my sister’s cat. Again, BY ACCIDENT. I swear! I will attempt to explain, but check back later to see if my sister leaves a comment on this post to clarify the awful details. No doubt she will blame me and call me ruthless, but I swear I wasn’t. I was only about five years old and just didn’t know better! Noel was my sister’s kitten. She was brand new to our house (the kitten, not Mary), and I think all of this happened on the very first day Noel arrived. We already had a BIG dog named Digger. He was a bull mastiff, the last of the ones my parents used to breed. Digger was sequestered to Jackson’s room when Noel arrived because my parents knew Digger would NOT get along with a little kitten. I think I played with Noel all day, then decided to take her to Jackson’s room to meet Digger. I remember cradling Noel in my arms and cracking the bedroom door open. Digger’s head whipped around and saw me through the crack, and saw Noel in my arms. Noel saw him, too! She flipped out and pounced, but the dumb cat pounced INTO the room, not OUT. The rest of the story still resides in slow motion in my memory: Digger mauled Noel. Dead. And I will forever shoulder the blame because I just wanted them to be friends. Ugh!

7. Lastly, it’s true: my neighbor’s dog, Duncan, bit my right wrist when I was in 7th grade. He was laying on the floor with his belly exposed, so I went over to pet him. Mind you, this is a dog that I was around pretty regularly. I reached to pet his belly, and he turned and attacked my wrist. Oh, man! It hurt like all get out! (I can’t write the words I really want to use there.) I still have the scars where his four teeth punctured my arm. I had to get stitches and a tetanus shot and wear bandages to school. Duncan still lived with my neighbors for a while, although I avoided him ever after. I believe he still lived there until he bit the family’s own son, then Duncan was retired to farm living.

This was a fun little game for me to play. I enjoyed quizzing my husband and seeing if he would get the answer right. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t, since some of these stories were buried deep in my memory. But he guessed correctly and helped me edit my lie so it was a little more believable. Originally, I also wrote that I threw up on myself when I was handcuffed. Dan said too many details made it an obvious lie.

I’m also floored that only one of you picked the lie! (Way to go, Robin!) My sister called this week and asked, “Did our brother have a mouse?” Ha! I even fooled my sister!