This one goes in the Creative Excuses gategory. I don't know how I got away with it. I shouldn't have:
When I was 9, I learned how to play golf. My dad taught me that practice makes perfect. So one day, I had come home from school and grabbed my 9-iron for a little practice. Except I wasn't allowed to go outside if my parents weren't home yet. So I was practicing in the living room. On the shag carpet. Yes, shag, it was the 60's.
I wasn't aware, until that day, that a 9-iron WILL take a divot (fancy golf word for hunk) out of the carpet the same as it will grass.
Oh, shit.
I tried sticking the hunk of carpet back in it's place, but it came out with the slightest touch. Didn't have time for glue. Might as well face the fact, I'm going to die when my parents get home.
But I'd been raised properly to know the difference between right and wrong.
So I lied. And it was a whopper too. I told them that I had JUST come in the room and saw our puppy ripping a hunk out of the carpet. Darn ol' puppy!
Shameful. Dear God forgive me ... I framed a sad-eyed puppy. Going to hell. Going to hell.
To this day, I have no clue whether my parents were naive enough to believe that or so amused by my creativity that they just let it go.
Thank GOD they didn't discipline the puppy.
His name was Happy. He got run over by a car several years later, so our secret went with him to the grave. I was 46 years old before I finally told my parents about that. They didn't even remember it.
0 comments:
Post a Comment