Re: New Contest...........TN's Best Liar!!!
The truth is, a goose didn’t lay that mythical Golden Egg!
When I was a young lad I lived with my grandmother for a time in the highlands of New Zealand. Though our existence was extremely poor of the simplest means we were always thankful of the basic comforts afforded to us. The forest around us provided the wood for our fires, the small stream in front of our one room cabin providing us water to quench our thirst, the small garden out back always providing us with just enough vegetables to sustain our half-empty bellies. In truth, our existence stunk, but we never complained or begged for the smallest of charities from the people in the tiny valley town below us. Each day of our life was hard work and seldom did I ever get the chance to explore the endless miles of rugged forest around our home. Then one day, after grandmother had fallen asleep in an eggnog induced drunken stupor, I wondered into the forest to challenge all of my childhood fantasies. The stout stick in my hand was my sword, the tiny saplings and bushes my arch-enemies.
I suppose I had wondered into the forest too far, the activities of my fierce battles distracting me and likewise luring me away from the usual locations I had come to know oh so well. Before I knew it I was standing in the middle of a strange clearing, at my feet the two separated paths from a passing wagon. In my curiosity I started to follow them, my fantasies now quickly reverting to Robin Hood instead of Sir Lancelot. I suppose I followed the wagon tracks for roughly two miles when all of a sudden I spotted a boxy looking carriage and two dark horses idled on the trail ahead of me. No longer was I playing the games of my childhood fantasies, but rather now I had slipped behind the trunk of a dead cottonwood tree to entertain the natural curiosities of my boyhood youth.
At first sight I thought her to be a witch and I nearly wet myself as she started to roam slowly in my general direction, the slithering motions of her mesmerizing image too tantalizing and mysterious to permit my eyes a single moment’s escape. Before I knew it she was standing directly in front of me, her deep brown eyes and cryptic face casting a feverish spell over me that I could not ignore. “Whad-ja be doing here boy,” she asked, “shall you be spy’n on de lady known as de Gypsyheart?” The words that she spoke were fluid and crisp, yet slowly presented in a manner that I had never before witnessed.
“No,” I replied, the inside of my head desperately seeking an acceptable reason for my being there, “I was hunting food my grandmother because she has a bad case of the runs from eating too many vegetables.” The Gypsy lady stepped back, her eyes piercing straight through me as she pondered my reply, then a raised finger that slowly swaggered back and forth. “Do not try to fool de Gypsyheart my child,” then suddenly she held out her other hand displaying to me the several small seeds that were resting along the entire length of here long index finger. “Take dees back home wit you boy and plant dem in your grandmama’s gardeen. By de rising of de morning sun you will have a gardeen as big as de sky.” In that moment I silently wondered what Robin Hood and Sir Lancelot would do? An instant later I was running through the forest like a gale force wind, my right hand clinching the tiny seeds I had swiftly removed the “beautiful” gypsy lady’s finger. To this very day I can still hear the metallic sounds of the small brass charms she wore about her ankles and toes, her silver and gold earrings still softly clanging together in the distant breeze.
As soon as I got back home I planted the tiny seeds in grandmother’s garden and I surrounded them with stones. The next morning when grandmother and I walked out to the garden a series of tangled vines were shooting straight up through the sky. By grandmother’s request I packed myself a few vegetable sandwiches and a flask of water and I started climbing the vines to see just how high they had grown. When I got to the top I was amazed to learn that the vines had somehow managed to punch a hole through the ground of a wondrous land I had never known to exist. At first I thought it was heaven, the fields and valleys around me the greenest greens I had ever laid eyes on, to my right a huge castle made of crystal and stone. Being a curious youth, and still fully inspired by my two fictitious friends, Robin Hood and Sir Lancelot, I quickly set out for yonder castle on a secret mission of conquest.
After arriving at the castle’s drawbridge-sized door, I soon located a large enough hole between two stones in the wall that allowed me an unnoticed entry. Once inside I was simple amazed at how huge everything was, the chairs and tables resembling the frameworks of a high-rise hotels instead of places for resting your bones and eating. I was just about in the center of the huge room when all of a sudden I heard a thundering voice proclaim, “Fee-fy-fo-fumb, I smell the blood of Tnet’s best liar!” I first I was so terrified I couldn’t flinch a single muscle, my extremely sexy body and Brad Pitt face too mortified to seek a place of hiding. But then I saw the source of the thundering voice as he crawled into the room, a giant pirate with all of his baby fat still draped over the edge of his diapers, a large blue pirate hat sitting on top of his chubby face, his Santa Clause beard completely covered in snot, the pacifier in his pudgy little hand smelling like beer. Now my first thought was that I was about to get covered with spit, the gleam in the baby’s bloodshot eyes offering me hint that I was soon to become his next play toy. For the next several minutes we carried on a rambunctious and playful chase through the castle, when suddenly the baby started to grimace and groan, the expression on his face becoming distorted and twisted, his chubby little cheeks turning that tell-tell shade of fiendish cherry red. And then the giant pirate baby started to cry. Damn! Having raised two sons I knew what it all meant right away!
When I returned home to dear old grandma I told her about the “beautiful” Gypsy lady, the tiny seeds she had given me, and eventually I told her about those playful few minutes with the giant pirate baby. When I got to the part about the baby’s grimacing and groaning grandma asked me if did the right thing and changed him? With a big smile on my face and my eyes twinkling with golden delight I reached out my hand and I simply replied, “Yep!” My unbelievable story gave dear old grandmother Goosebumps all over.