Wednesday, May 27, 2009

And then, it fell from the sky and I walked across the water to get it. Honestly.

I know when my child is lying. I can tell, even over the phone. He is terrible at it. His big eyes kind of glaze over and pop out like a cartoon cat. Then his voice goes up an octave. And he changes the subject immediately afterward, with curve balls like, "Mom, all that working out really seems to be working". As to throw me off my blood-splattered path with another lie.

Jack never, ever, gets away with lying. Even a small lie in response to "Did you brush you teeth?" falls flat. Afterward he always says, "damn you're good... why do I even bother?!" 


My friend Linda says her son Pete always tugged at his ear while fabricating even the tiniest tall tale.

And Brian Mulroney, well, never mind.

This past week, I have been more than a little preoccupied with a lie that involves my stolen iPhone. It's a long story, one that basically begins after the theft, with a lie of my own. You see, the morning I realized my iPhone had been stolen from my truck, I was on my way to Jack's 6am hockey. Sitting in the Cole Harbour rink parking lot, I used an old Pay-as-you-go phone we never use, and starting dialing my iPhone. I figured if nothing else, I'd wake the little asshole who stole my phone up. I dialed it several times and it rang and rang. Finally, after several calls, the little delinquent turned the phone off.

That spoiled my fun, so I did what most victims of petty crime would do. I lied. I went home and sent myself a bunch of emails. My emails all popped up on the iPhone without need for a password to retrieve them. My messages to my iPhone said, "Listen you dumb fuck, this phone has a built-in GPS and the cops are on their way." 

It was a bald-face lie. And it worked. The thief sent me a text message!  

I guess the dumb shit panicked, which set off a series of lies that continue to this day. His stories include; "finding" the cell phone; then selling the cell phone to a friend of a friend, and apparently coming down with amnesia as suddenly he didn't know who his friends were. Then he moved on to a tale about giving the cell phone to the rightful owner who had claimed it, then in gratitude gave him a $30 reward. But amnesia kicked in again, as he couldn't remember who that person was. Or where they met. 

All the while, the police and I are shaking our heads. But here's the kicker – his parents knew nothing about any of this. Once enlightened, they went from angry and wanting to make things right – to buying into his lies – practically saying their child's shit doesn't stink. 

If it weren't for the police telling me not to contact these gullible parents, I would most certainly be doing donuts on their south end lawn. Ya gotta love rear wheel drive.

Through it all, I have gone from patient and forgiving, telling them to replace the phone and it'll all be swept under the rug – to rabid. This is costing me time and money I do not have. As the guy at Rogers said, "M'am, it's easier to get out of a marriage than a Rogers contract". 

To be honest, I am most angry, aside from the financial loss, at the kid's parents and their total lack of responsibility. If Jack had been caught in possession of a so-called "found" object, I would march his ass up to the victim's house so fast his size 12's wouldn't touch the ground. There, he would be apologizing and offering to mow their lawn, or shovel their snow until the item was paid off. Then I would have him circumsized. 

I'm with Rodney on this one. I agree with his election blah blah, that parents should pay when their kids screw up.

These parents didn't do a damn thing. As a result, charges are being laid and this kid will have to face the music. Bad opera music.  

I know if Jack found an expensive iPhone, he would be so dumb with excitement and the hope he would actually be able to keep it, that he'd be dying to tell me about it. And, if Jack was trying to keep a secret about a found or stolen object, I would know. I would smell the omissions and lies on his breath. I would see it in his eyes. I would know the minute he said, "Mom, you deserve a pedicure, let me pay for it."   

Lying takes a great deal of energy. That kid, and his parents, must be exhausted.