Telling Tall Tales
My childhood friend used to be a big liar. He’s not anymore. He’s what I call a reformed asshole. He didn’t have much of a chance though, as you’ll soon realize.
He grew up the youngest brother of three. He was scrawny and always had to fight to prove himself, until he began to realize his mind could protect him. So it was always my brother was a Navy Seal he will kill you and your family if you punch me. Or my brother is a black-belt.
His brothers had no idea their younger brother was talking so much about their fighting prowess. In fact they were fairly good students and not really tough or mean at all, but since they went to a ruff highschool and Chad was still in middle school, no one knew the difference.
One day we came back from school, heading in the direction of Chad’s house, when we saw his brothers shoulder to shoulder walking up the sidewalk, more like stomping. They each had bloody noses and black eyes. They told us they ran into some kids cousins who came looking for the tough guys who were going to beat the crap out of them. Chad had tortured their younger brother while he was pissing in the urinal, until he pissed down his jeans. It was Chad’s Vulcan death grip. When this kids cousins came for redemption, Chad just claimed again his brothers were fighters. They found out the truth, as did his brothers.
He stopped lying about his brothers after that.