A couple of years ago, my girlfriend and I were drinking excessively having a couple of nightcaps, and as is oft wont to happen after we get proper shit-faced a little tipsy, an argument ensued. it was over something vital I?m sure, something like whether or not I moved the wrench from the drawer to the tool box. Anyway, tired of the shouting match, I stormed away into the house to use the bathroom. I was walking pretty fast and the hallway light wasn?t on, so I failed to notice the bathroom door was only slightly ajar instead of fully open as it usually is when vacant. My hand flew up to hit the light switch in the bathroom and it pushed the door open with significantly more force than I intended; it didn?t have a door stop, so the knob punched a large hole into the drywall behind the door. (Fuck.) I resolved not to tell my girlfriend until the next day after I?d compiled a sober, cogent and ?man-of-the-house? solution to the drywall problem? forgetting that women also have bladders and mine might also need to relieve herself before the night was over? which is exactly what happened.
?What the hell happened to my wall?!?? she exclaimed through the door. (Fuck.) ?What are you talking about?? I replied in my most sincere surprised tone. The door flew open and she revealed the gaping hole. Of course, I was *as shocked as she was.* ?Did you slam the door into the wall?? she asked. Sherlock Holmes doesn?t have shit on this one, but God didn?t bless me with this notorious poker face for nothing, so without skipping a beat, I said ?What? Of course not!? so incredulously, I almost believed it myself. The wheels turned in her head for a few seconds when she finally concluded ?It must have been one of the boys this week.? This was during the summer, and her son (then 13 years old) had had a couple friends sleep over, and boys being boys, there was quite a bit of rough-housing including a particularly nerve-wracking stint wherein one of them had playfully barricaded himself in the bathroom while the others tried to force their way in.
It all came together perfectly; prosecution dropped all charges; my lie had been sanctioned by God. Not only did I not have to lie beyond simply saying I didn?t do it, logic and reason had placed the blame squarely on the shoulders of the perfect culprits: a gang of ADHD-addled, hormone soaked boys who would either 1.) mostly likely lie or play dumb if they?d actually done it, so = GUILTY, or 2.) fervently blame each other to avoid any punishment, so = GUILTY. I don?t condone lying, particularly to a woman I love, but in that moment I felt exactly how I imagine crooked cops must feel.
