SOME OF MY BLOODY PINOCCHIO MOMENTS

Some of My Bloody Pinocchio Moments

 

It doesn’t take much:

 

a fib,

a whopper of a story,

a lame excuse,

thinking of making up a story even if I don’t say it out loud,

hiding my green vegetables when my mom gets up from the table and putting them in my pocket until I can go outside and really hide them,

blaming my brother for starting an argument,

swearing that I don’t know why my nose was bleeding and no, I wasn’t picking it,

swearing,

telling my mother that my hands were cold and that’s why they were under the covers,

swearing on grandma that I wasn’t peeking into our next-door neighbor Linda’s bedroom after I promised I wouldn’t do it again,

Mom asked if I liked my school lunch and I didn’t tell her that I traded my tuna on rye lunch with Marty for a pack of Sno-Balls, and one from his pack of Ho-s Ho-s oHoszminus a small bite,

hiding my transistor radio under my blanket so I could listen to the Yankee game coming from the Stadium,o-hHos.

Swearing to Mom that I had no idea where the Playboy Magazine came from—I just saw it sticking out from under my bed,

Telling Mom I had no idea why my socks were sticky,

Swearing to Mom that I didn’t sneak the Guildon’s yellow mustard out of the house and smear it inside Linda’s underwear after her mother finished the wash and hung the clothes on the line to dry.