Rat Poison Mints

All lies aren’t the same .           .          .      

Some taste a little more sour than others

. . .and none are very nourishing.

Sometimes only a lie can only be trumped by another lie

(more devastatingly deceiving than the original)

It started off simply enough.        .        .

It was Summer and we were all at my Grandmother’s house and it was after Supper.  She told us that we had had enough snacks for the night.

And most likely I would gotten away with it, but I didn’t get rid of the little red wrapper that the two little mints were packaged.

When my Grandmother asked who had

 s     n     e     a     k     e     d 

the candy.         .         .

no one fessed up.

She asked the question again,

“Who took the candy that I said  “no”  to?”

S        I        L        E        N        C        E

“Well, whoever ate it better tell me now, because it was rat poison that tasted like candy and if you don’t get a glass of milk right away,
Y  O  U        W  I  L  L         D  I  E !”

It was just about that time, my cousin, Pam, walked into the kitchen, unbeknownst to all of this rat-poison-candy-eating-milk-drinking-antidote talk, she asked,

“Can  I  have  a  glass  of  milk,”

At which time my Grandmother thought she had found her candy thief

and better still,

I thought that I had my scapegoat and I didn’t have to come forward and admit to anything

E      X      C      E      P      T

I started feeling a little sick to my stomach because my Grandmother had planted the seed that I had, in fact, eaten Rat Poison and must have the much needed glass of milk that my cousin had innocently asked.

“Uhhhhh, Nan, you’d better give me that glass of milk.  I’m the one who ate the Rat Poison.”

B        U        S        T        E        D

I remember my Grandfather was livid that my Grandmother would do such a thing, but she never apologized for her search and loyalty to the
T     R     U     T     H.          .          .

Ohhhhh, what a lesson she taught me that day.       .       .

I can’t eat a butter mint without thinking of that night in my Grandparents kitchen,

and I can’t remember drinking milk since then.           .           .

Have I ever lied since.           .           .?

W  E  L  L.            .             .

Mostly to myself

Have I paid for those un-truthful ways.         .         . ?

More than a Dairy Farm of Milk could ever drown

Y    O    U ?

The  TRUTH

 doesn’t always set you free

especially from ways you’ve never recognized bondage;

but it sure does modify

Perspective

.         .         .and sometimes that’s just a not-so-warm-cookie-out-of-the-oven

that doesn’t much taste good no matter what your choice of  drink.     .     .

Have You ever been Rat Poisoned before?

Any good
a  n  t  i  d  o  t  e  s.     .     .
?