(This is Part Two of the story. Make sure you go back and read Part One.)
Mrs. Grumplehorn was still waiting. I had told her the “truth” was coming. She had gone from “eyebrow furrowed angry” to “arms crossed, toe tapping angry”, anticipating my answer.
I knew what I was doing. I was milking her silence to irritate her more. Don’t believe me when I actually tell you the truth? You will suffer. I’m an honest kid. My dog did eat my homework; the evidence was still dripping in my hand.
Every kid in the class was leaning over their desks. They knew that I was a “goodie two-shoes”. They knew that I didn’t regularly challenge authority, so this was an interesting turn of events.
“What do you have to say?”
“You’re right Mrs. Grumplehorn. My dog didn’t eat my homework.”
My admission of her being right unruffled her feathers. Her nose rose in a self-righteous manner. Her arms went from crossed to secured on her hips, standing in her glory.
“It wasn’t my dog at all. It was your son Mrs. Grumplehorn.”
Silence fell like a hammer. It was the start of a good lie, I thought. How ridiculous was the idea of her son eating my homework? Grumplehorn crumbled onto her desk. I turned to look at the other kids. Horror was written on all of their faces.
What did I say?