For some reason Mom and Dad thought it would be a good idea to buy a five year old boy a bee bee rifle. At the very onset you will have to agree nothing good is going to come of such a combination.
One day I had the rifle outside and practicing my aim by shooting at trees. Along came the family dog. His name was Herkimoor. My dad named him and we had no idea where the name came from.
There is something instinctive in the male DNA; if he sees something on the move he must challenge himself to hit a moving target. Thus, I aimed my rifle at Herkimoor, squeezed the trigger, the rifle plunged to bee bee forth, and a slight thud was heard as the bee bee struck ole Herky’s pelt.
Herkimoor yelped and my mom and dad came running.
With sweet eyes of amazement I looked up and mom and dad and said, “I was aiming for yonder tree and Herkimoor ran right in front of me.”
They thought it was cute. As I look back on that event now as an old man; not so cute. It should have been a time to instruct and discipline.
Lies are infectious and breed. Often they are used to make something more interesting, but too often to save ones skin or to escape from punishment. They can be used to ruin others. Thus, many feel justified in defending lies about them with lies about others; lies upon lies.
There is sometimes the problem of perspective; the glass was half full or half empty. The other car came out of nowhere. I forgot. (As opposed to I just didn’t want to do it.)
There are acceptable lies, hyperbole. The fog was as thick as pea soup. He’s as strong and an ox. I’m 110% sure.
Now that this is off my chest, I lied. I didn’t say “yonder tree” I said “that there” tree. For some reason I channeled Davy Crockett, who did not kill a bear when he was three.