Who's laughing at me now?

I am.Everyone remembers a time when something went so wrong it was terrifying or embarrassing, yet when the story gets told now, it creates a laughfest.I'm 11 years old. My father tells me I have to be home by dark from a day of fishing with Eddie at New Market Pond. Eddie was a bit of a troublemaker; one reason for that was his folks never gave him a curfew.We fished along the railroad tracks all day, catching catfish and gold carp. As dusk neared, the bites got better and the fish got bigger. I knew I needed to give myself 20 minutes for my bike ride home.Just when I told Eddie I had to leave, I hooked into a huge carp that nearly broke my pole in two. I finally landed the behemoth, and as it flopped across my sneakers, I realized the sun was down and night was falling.With Eddie pleading with me to stay, I jumped on my bike and raced home, thinking my father was going to kill me, or at the least, tell me to go to my room and "get ready." Getting ready meant putting my face down on the bed and pulling my pants down to my ankles, bracing myself for the belt.I told myself I would have none of that.So I made up a story. First I had to summon up a really good fake cry."There was this big ugly man following my bike in a beat-up old car," I said with tears spilling from my eyes."What did he look like?" asked my mom."Scar on his forehead, big yellow teeth. He pulled next to me and said, 'Get in the car.' ""Oh my God," said Mom. "What did you say to him?""Nothing. I just pedaled faster and faster. He followed me right up to our driveway, where I fell and ripped my pants. See? Then I looked and he was gone.""I'm calling the police," said my father.Oh, boy, don't call the police, I thought. No, no, no!Soon an officer in uniform entered our kitchen. As my mother told him what happened, I started a real cry this time, afraid that when my father found out that I made it all up, forget the belt, I would be dead by the morning.The policeman asked me questions. I sobbed through every answer."Is it OK if I speak with your son privately in another room?" he asked my parents.In the living room, he sat me down."There really isn't any ugly man with big yellow teeth, is there?" he asked. "You made all this up, didn't you?""Yes," I said choking on my tears."Well I guess then I'm going to have to tell your father that - that the police department will keep a lookout for his car."He gave me a wink, leaving me trying to catch my breath between the sobs.That night I got extra hugs from my mom and ate homemade banana splits with my father.You bet I learned my lesson. If you're going to tell a lie, make sure you have someone to back you up.I never told my father the truth about that night because right up until he died, I thought he'd still beat my backside.I told my mom the story during her last few weeks in a nursing home, but it had no effect because she had no recollection of any of it.The tale gets chuckles whenever I tell it now, and there is more to add to the original version.Eddie got a ride home in a police car. My friendly policeman caught him throwing rocks at a freight train near midnight.So why not pop one of your stories on an unsuspecting someone who played a part in one of your past experiences?Begin with, "Remember the time when you and I …" and then say, "Guess what else happened that I never told you about?"You will either get an angry, "I can't believe you never told me that," or you will share a good laugh.It's worth the risk. With either response, you get to free it forever from your conscience.Rich Strack can be reached at

katehep11@gmail.com.