Thanks to ODDitor Sreemanti for publishing my story

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,
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.
 clothes on the line to dry.

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