USJogger and the Fib From Outer Space

The story Larry Boy and the Fib from Outer Space is a VeggieTales video from Big Idea Productions. In it, Junior Asparagus breaks his father's favorite souvenir bowling plate. Rather than confess, Junior tells his father a little fib, that his friend Laura broke the plate. Of course, the fib grows into a monster that almost destroys Bumblyburg. The only person who can stop it is Junior, by telling the truth.

Sometime between the ages of 7 and 13 (I remember because I know what house we lived in), I did something similar. I was the kind of kid who snuck snacks when I shouldn't. Actually, I still am. I ate two pieces of cake. It must have been someone's leftover birthday cake, although I don't remember whose. I was insufficiently expert to cover my tracks. My mother knew someone had eaten the cake, but she didn't know who. She called us all in and asked her to look her in the eye and tell her that we hadn't taken the cake. I looked her straight in the eye and lied. I have a memory (no idea whether it's real or not) of her telling my father that the thing that she was really mad about was that some child (she still didn't know which one) had been able to look her in the eye and lie. I've forgotten a lot of my youth, but I haven't forgotten that. I've never told anyone that story until now. (And Grandma Jogger reads this blog. Sorry, Mom.)

Why bring it up? Because some version of one of those stories is almost certainly being played out in our house right now. Someone took a pack of gum. We know which Little Jogger likes gum, which one is most likely to take something without telling us, and which one is most likely to lie to our faces. But we don't have evidence.

We aren't sure what to do. There should be a penalty for having gum when you aren't supposed to, for stealing, and for lying. But, what about that one-in-a-million chance that the Little Jogger is innocent? Maybe it was one of the others. Or Mrs. Jogger accidentally dropped the gum behind her desk. Or something.

In the Veggietales version, Junior comes clean. The fib disappears, and Junior has learned a valuable lesson. I never came clean (well, not for 30 years), but I did live with the guilt involved. I grew. I matured. As an adult, I have a very hard time lying, which is probably just as well. I wasn't cut out for a life of crime.

And what will happen to the Little Jogger? I don't know. It may be 30 years before I find out.