I’m a really, really good liar. Seriously, I am. When I was growing up, I learned at home how to do it right, even though the same person who taught me how to do it so well would punish me for lying to him.
From a very early age, I learned to answer the phone when my father was dodging certain phone calls. I was coached in exactly what to say to which people, completely without regard to the truth, of course. I was frequently casually informed of lies so I could be sure to back up one of my father’s lies if it came up in conversation.
For instance, we were one time on the way to visit my father’s boss when he told me to say that my foot was fine if I was asked about it. He had needed an excuse to leave work one day, so he claimed that I had been injured by having a lawnmower blade hit my foot. (He had read a tiny news item about it happening to another boy, so he just transferred the story to me when it was convenient.) Things such as this were common for me.
As I said, though, lying to him was strictly forbidden. If I was caught doing it — and I was, from time to time — I was severely punished.

In spite of the ridiculous imagery, I still want to rescue my princess
I feel hope for future, because truth is real and love is possible
Friday nights still take me back to sidelines of high school football
For first time in my life, I fear not finding love and life I’ve needed
I don’t allow comments anymore, and I’d like to briefly explain why
To unlock your heart for real love, you must embrace vulnerability
Good artists show us what we can’t yet see with our own eyes
16-year-old charged with felony for science experiment gone bad
What makes good science fiction? Aya Katz and I discuss ‘Podkayne’