Where Would I Have Learned To Lie

The spaceship was atypical. Her aliens unlike any I had visualized. Questions they asked were silly. No one probed me. I laughed at their striped skin and their extra eyes. They reminded me of googly eyed teddy bears. Except they were thinner, and they seemed silly. I was rude; I admit it. I tried to share my gum with one of them. You have to chew it first, he said. “I can never get it started.” This grossed even me out, but I shared it anyway. He popped it into his left ear which confused me. The aliens never brought a McGillacudy back that quickly said Mom. My father called me a liar, he was never taken. Where would I have learned to lie? I asked him. Chuckling all the way to my dragon’s den. I knew he had never caught a forty-six-pound goldfish Or tamed crocodiles in the Nile.