The Worst Lies Involve Raccoons
“A good memory is needed once we have lied.”
– Pierre Corneille, Le Menteur
One of the most memorable moments of my childhood was saving my friends and siblings from a rabies-ridden raccoon. We were all playing a game of kickball in the local park, when a gargantuan raccoon approached us. With a crazed look in its eyes, the raccoon prowled towards us like a lion stalking its prey. I knew it was trouble, but before I could call for my parents, it began to charge us. As my friends turned to run away, I ran towards it. Like two warriors meeting on a battlefield, we raced headlong towards each other. Mere feet away the raccoon lunged for me, its fangs bared, ready to bite. As my foe tried to close its teeth around my calf, with only milliseconds to spare, my foot shot out and I delivered a ferocious kick to the raccoon’s chest. It roared as it thumped to the ground. Knowing it was no match for the stoic twelve-year old that I was, the raccoon raced away. My friends all crowded around me and celebrated my stunning triumph over the savage beast. I told that story to most of my friends at college, and few believed me. I knew it was true, so I reached out to a couple of friends who were there to have them back me up. What they said shocked me.
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