13 Liars – 16 Prevarications

Dr. John’s lie:

I first met Quill Dancer at McDonalds. She was standing on top a table dancing. This seemed such an odd thing to do that I had to ask her why she was doing this. She said ” I’m quilldancer and I dance wherever I go”. Well that sounded good though I thought just maybe she had had a bit too much to drink.That will get you up on the table all the time. It could have been that new McDonalds coffee. But she came down from the table and we had a nice talk. Now we are good friends. But I still won’t drink that coffee.

Jenn’s first lie:

It was at Devi’s Corner…I was hungry and it was convenient (although like notorious for being the worst place in Bangsar for bag and phone snatchers), so I rocked up, ordered my roti canai and settled down with my book. And then I looked across and there you were, reading the identical book (The Secret Lives of Supposedly Asexual Bugs) and I thought, hey, what are the odds? So I caught your eye, we smiled at each other and then we started talking table to table (very rude I know, but this is Malaysia and you have to be loud to be heard especially in Devi’s Corner) and then I discovered we shared a love of gridirons and again I thought, hey, what are the odds? So anyway, like any good blog addicts, we exchanged URLs and here were are. (OK Justin was somewhere in there too, but I can’t remember where – and he did say something about separating us because we got so engrossed and left him out of the conversation)

Jenn’s second lie:

What do you mean you don’t remember coming to Malaysia?

I said: “OK I grant you the smog and the rude drivers and the brusque shop assistants, but underneath it all, don’t you think we are a very warm people?”

And you rolled your eyes and said nothing.

It was a very touching moment. (flicks a furtive tear)

Goldennib’s first lie:

The last time I visited Las Vegas, I passed a hot dog stand where a showgirl stood holding a sign which said, “The end is near.” Hair decorated with quills and wearing a tutu, she pirouetted in circles while singing, “What’s New Pussycat.”

When she noticed I carried a basket brimming with Catnip, she fell in step beside me. She offered to trade her sign for the herbs. Being tired of carrying the catnip anyway, I gave it too her for free.

She took me to see Andy Warhol on stage as a thank you. We drank tequila all night long and had tofu burgers for breakfast.

As the sun set that morning, I asked her name.

“Quilldancer,” she said.

“And what is the meaning of your sign?”
“Wayne Newton’s career is almost over and he wanted to give advanced warning, in case people wanted to see his final show.”

Bil Pud’s lie:

I think I met Quilldancer in the Jumbo Bar in Nakhon Ratchasima, Thailand in December 1996. She was queefing ping-pong balls with such aplomb and temerity that Rama IX himself was summoned for a Royal Command performance.
I supplied the balls you see.

The Old Fart’s lie:

Her name was Quilldancer, a Romantic, who had come to Corsica in search of Bandits. Rather like those women who venture into the desert to look for rattlesnakes.

She found me in the mountains, hiding from the Lime Green Lollypop Girls at the time. I came to like this girl, we became blogging buddies and exchanged comments on each other’s blogs.

Twelve years later Quilldancer invites me to go for a ride in her Dodge Dart. She takes me to Las Vegas and promises me I will make a Million. She says I looked like Jerry Lewis but said I’d be nothing without Dean. She was correct.

Lori’s lie:

I first met Quilldancer on New Year’s Eve in Valley Forge, 1776. I was working on a painting of General George Washington crossing the Delaware. I was having trouble with the focal point of the piece when Quill suggested I paint him standing up in the boat rather than sitting down. “Perfect” I said and proceeded to finish the painting.

To thank her for her brilliant suggestion, I offered to buy her a beer at the pub. She agreed and we got to talking about her writing. She showed me the latest copy of her work which was the “The Constitution”. “Beautiful penmanship!” I exclaimed. I asked her why she did not sign it and she said because John Hancock took up too much room.

Sarah’s lie:

I met Quilldancer in Idaho when she was 14. I pulled up to a gas station on my 125cc Harley and found her looking sad . Her 125cc Yamaha was empty, as were her pockets. I tossed three quarters to the attendant and said “fill her up”. She asked if I’d like to ride with her a bit. Just as we were about to leave the Hell’s Angels pulled up and started laughing at us. Quilly said,” we aren’t going to let anyone treat us this way. She flew into action making Chuck Norris look like a wimp. The Hell’s Angels promised to go to church every Sunday from then on.

Donna’s lie:

Do you remember the junior high Sunday school teacher when we were kids? No one liked her because she kept telling us we were all sinners (what 8th grader wants to hear that all the time) so you and I came up with a plan to get her to quit? I still can’t believe you came up with the idea to make her think God was talking to her in the church. Looking back, I guess it was kind of dumb of us to think we could use the church sound system during the Sunday service and not have anyone but her hear it. We weren’t known for our planning, were we?! Anyway, it really stunk having to do community service for the whole summer AND having her as a teacher again in 9th grade too! Well, except that we certainly became great friends after all that.

Tina’s lie:

How could you ever forget our first meeting? It was at a concert to see the most excellent Hoffster himself, David Hasslehoff! Every one got into a panty flinging concert and your’s flew farther, magnificent elastic on those grannies, but that little Malibu Barbie in the front row claimed her’s did. Like a thong really has the weight to reach that distance. I stood up for your grannies, claiming I knew they went further than hers and the following fight got us thrown out before we ever saw our stud. But it got us talking and we worked together to wait for him after the show backstage. Good thing we both brought extra panties and we managed to get a couple good shots off before they stopped us. We’ve been talking ever since. Gotta love the Hoffster.

Charlie’s lie:

We met in a bar in old Bombay.

We met on the road to Mandalay.

We met in a street in Kandahar.

We met in a Cairo bazaar.

Thus run the words of a song written by me for a musical commissioned by Andrew Lloyd Webber way back in 1993 when at the age of 28, I was regarded by some as a musical genius rivaling Rogers, Hammerstein and Schwarzenegger.

Of course, Weber wasn’t to know that our meeting, 6 months earlier, had inspired the lyrics. Why would he know? Why would anyone know? It’s been our secret and I intend to keep it that way. That is, unless you wish to reveal exactly which one of those lines is the truth? Until then, my lips are sealed.

Donna’s second lie:

Heck ya we went to high school together! Don’t you remember our Senior prom? We finally got dates with the two hottest guys in school and even went in a limo. When we got there the gym looked amazing and we just knew this was going to be the best night of our lives. Little did we know the guys had been drinking since noon and were starting to act really strange. We weren’t sure what to think when they told us they had ‘special plans’ for us later that night. Thank goodness you had a quarter and we called your mom to come and get us! I can’t believe we had to hide in the girls bathroom for 20 minutes after we spent so much money on those dresses! Of course, we know now that looks don’t necessarily mean manners, huh?

Bazza’s lie:

Thanks for visiting, and your kind words, I suspect though that this is not the first time we have met. Back in 76/77 Dr Feelgood was playing on Canvey Island (or was it the Isle of Dogs?). You were seeing the drummer at the time and I was a roadie, you made some comment about my T-shirt being cool. During the gig, Lee the singer dedicated a song to you on behalf of the drummer. The song was called Baby Jane and I can still see the grin on your face when he said it. In fact I still see the grin on your face every time I play the song.

Goldennib’s second lie:

I first met Quilldancer on a blue cheese collecting expedition on the moon. As this was a top-secret trip organized by the CIA, you can imagine my surprise when I saw a woman tripping the light fantastic across my private field.

She took care not to trample my harvest, while she bounded around in pure delight. While we both were wearing space suits, I could tell that she was laughing and giggling and having a grand old time.

She seemed to know something special and I wanted to know it, too. I racked my brain for a way to communicate with her. I know Sign Language but my hands were in mittens. The ink in my pen ran up instead of down on this gravity-less orb, plus I had no paper. Just when I ran out of ideas, she turned, showing me the message emblazoned on her back, “Kitties Rock.”

Ms. Liz’s lie:

When did I first meet you? I remember well. Charlie had just made his inappropriate escape from my classroom. He loved to play a game of “run and catch” as often as he could. I was in my watch and wait for the right moment mode when this lady in beautiful sandals came around the corner. “Need some help?” she asked. Not waiting for an snswer, she went to the other side of the child and together we lead him back into the classroom to an activity. We introduced ourselves and have been great friends ever since. (I in my loafers or tennies to play with little ones and you in your beautiful shoes.)

Gary’s [off-topic] lie:

I was downtown parallel parking, and I somehow ended up in a parallel universe. It was really spooky. I was afraid I would never get back to reality. Until finally I decided to see what would happen if I put the car in reverse. Luckily that did the trick. But I’m definately not going downtown again any time soon.

Seasonal Heart

Old Sol claims the sky
by day, sweetening the fruit
for the harvest moon;

in your eyes I long to see
a desire for my heart,

Leaves begin to turn,
soon the air grows crisp and chill,
the sun grows aloof;

but you gift me with no smile
and hope withers in my breast.

Snow blankets the ground,
breath hangs upon frigid air
and ice rules the day;

like frost you chill my passions.
I no longer seek your charms.

Tender leaves unfurl,
life reaches toward the sky and
timid blossoms bloom;

your interest in me only flares
as my passion for you wanes.

CLA

The poem I have written is called a Renga. The three verse couplings are haiku and have a 5-7-5 syllabic pattern. The two connecting verses each have seven syllables. Together the four seperate haiku, linked by the 4 seven syllable verses (which together form their own poem) become one poem, complementing each other and adding greater depth and meaning the whole. Further contraints on the art form include the necessity of mentioning the moon in the third verse, flowers in the 19th verse, and love as part of the theme.

This is my first attempt at creating a Renga. You may heap praise upon my head for doing so well. (If you have any other opinion please feel free to keep it to yourself!)

I would like to thank Nea, proprietor of The Southern View. You write such beautiful prose that you prompted me to lift my quill again and make a few scribbles of my own.

Folks, if you are into poetry, photography and gardens, you want to stop by Nea’s place and soak up a little Southern charm. Maybe she’ll enchant you into writing poetry, too.

Hallelujah It’s Raining ….

liars. Hope you didn’t think I was going to say “men.” Believe me, if it were raining men at my house I wouldn’t be telling anybody until after I’d vetted them all and chose the best of the lot for myself.

Anyway — I’m not here to talk about men. I’m here to talk about Liars. (Oh, hush ladies. That was totally uncalled for!)

The Liars Contest is in full swing. So far five contenders have taken up my challenge. The contest will run until midnight, August 12th. Please remember all lies must be focused on our first meeting, and to be entered in the official voting they must be under 150 words in length.

Our contending liars are: Dr. John — his story made me laugh outloud. Jenn — who offered two lies — one a delicious tale of deli dining which, alas, is too long for the competition; and a delightfully sentimental tear jerker that was so heart felt I actually checked my passport to see if I had indeed forgotten a trip to Malaysia. Next Goldennib chimed in with a superb tale, unfortunately much too far over the word limit. However she is invited to try again. Bil Pud, formerly known as Dangling Bile or something like that, tells a story that explains why he’s no longer dangling. And Bill, also known as Old Fart, submits a wordy tale in which he admits to plagerism as well as lying.

Oh, and I mus’nt forget Nea, who — upon attempting to enter the contest — was forced to admit that the daunting ghost of her grandmother prevents her from formulating a lie.

What a lovely lot of lying friends I have. Please, add your name to the list. Every Liar’s story will be posted on August 14th, and voting will immediately commense.

Liar’s Contest

Tell me a fictional story about when we first met. It can be anything you want — good or bad — but it has to be fake. Your submission must be 150 words or less, or it will be disqualified.

Entries must be received by Midnight, August 12th.

On August 14th the memories of each liar will be posted here (along with a link to their home blog) and voting will commence. The polls will remain open through mid-night Friday, at which time all votes will be tallied. The first second and third place winners will be announced (again with links to their home blogs) on or before 8:00 a.m. (PST) August 21st.

Prizes:
1st place: Celebrity Status as, “The Greatest Living Liar”
2nd place: Contender Status as, “Almost The Greatest Living Liar’
3rd place: Wannabe Status as: ‘Liar in Training’
All other participants earn proof positive that they are very poor lairs indeed.

Now, let the games begin!

I would like to thank Donnak for inspiring this contest.

After A While

by Veronica A. Shoffstall

After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn
that love doesn’t mean leaning
and company doesn’t always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren’t contracts
and presents aren’t promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of woman, not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow’s ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn
with every goodbye, you learn…