I am a gifted misleader, one of the hidden benefits of growing up gay in a Southern Baptist household. Lie or die, figuratively speaking.
These days I try to keep the deceptions harmless, intending only a comedic benefit. That being said, here's three of my greatest fibs:
3.) Ashton Kutcher does "Repo Man"
Victim: Al Kosa
Source: Hollywood remakes
So I convince Al that Tinsletown is revisiting one of his favorites, the 1983 film classic, "Repo Man," with Ashton Kutcher assuming the Emilio Estevez role (and the double E inheriting Harry Dean Stanton's character). I kept it going for about two years. Whenever I brought it up, Al would unleash a predictable torrent of obscenities.
2.) The coffee table Bible
Victim: Ms. Ellie
Source: Wedding gift from the in-laws
As her marriage to Bobby Bubbles drew nigh, I convinced Ms. Ellie that Bobby's parents would be handing down the oversized family Bible. Believable, in that Bobby hails from strongly religious stock, just like the Malcontent. I let that one fester for about two months.
1.) The stripper
Victim: Al Kosa (unintended)
Source: Too much booze
This one's a bit more complex, but it demonstrates my uncanny ability to lie on my feet. Anyways, there's this gal Al and I know -- let's call her Trace -- who is not our biggest fan. (She accused me of pretending to be queer just so I could make fun of gay people). Said prudish female had previously accused Al of being a gossip -- far from the truth.
The scene: a party at Markie Post's house. I'm stuck chatting with Trace when an opening presents itself, and of course I can't resist: "Al tells me you used to do some stripping on the side." Predictably, Trace blew up like a bullfrog, turned and left. I never had a chance to tell her I was only kidding.
Flash forward a couple of hours. I had passed out. Al arrives solo at the soiree, all happy-go-lucky, until he's confronted by Trace's boyfriend: "Why are you telling everyone my girlfriend is a stripper?" Al had no idea what he was talking about.
I could've cleared everything up but, as mentioned, I had retired to the boudoir. I haven't seen Trace since -- last I heard, she was plotting my death -- but the anecdote survives.