Ever written a cheque your backside couldn't cash?

[Bender]

Not my fault that a heated debate decided to ensue after I commented on someone’s oxymoron, is it? I mean, what kind of person would I be if I let a stupid and contradictory term such as ‘honest lie’ go un-noticed and un-debated? Seriously though, ‘honest lie’? Come on… How can you possibly have an honest lie? The two words are the complete opposite! It’s like having a ‘dishonest truth’.

It all began with me minding my own business at work, whittling away the hours making sure the servers were working and sending get-rich-quick plans to a friend of mine over MSN Messenger. I knew Jinn was doing something or other next to me, and was aware that someone had sat themselves next to him looking at the same thing. I can’t remember what it was they were talking about now. To be honest, I don’t think I paid enough attention to what they were mumbling for me to be able to claim I even heard them talking. But out of the blue, I heard the phrase ‘Honest Lie’ be uttered from Jinns’ mouth. My ears stood to attention like a startled dear in the headlights of a fast moving car.

Now, Jinn is not a man to be messed with. He’s a well build, black guy with a shaven head who could easily tear my limbs off using only the power of his mind, but this I could not let go. He’s an intelligent man, and one who can take a certain amount of subjective criticism squarely on the chin without a flinch, not unlike B.A. Barracas when struck by the scrawny white guy working for some mexican mafia in The A-Team. I thought that if I just pointed out what he had said, we’d all have a hearty man-chuckle and settle back down to work.

No… It was not to be. Steve, who was sat pretty much in between Jinn and myself, wheeled his chair back about half a meter, clearing a perfect line of sight between Jinn and my quivering, soon to be in pieces, body. Jinn was just staring at me. I tried hard to catch a glimpse of my life flash before my eyes, but alas, I was just to worried about the consequences of a comment that was only meant to be brushed aside like the autumn leaves on a garden path. Then, his mouth opened in preparation to speak… “What do you mean?”, he said…

I pride myself on being able to talk my way out of most situations with not only my dignity intact, but usually my face in one piece and the ability to walk still with me. On this occasion, I knew that the very response I was about to give to this question was directly related to the condition in which my corpse would be found in when it was pulled out the nearest river. I was visualising the press conference that my mother would attend to plead for information on my whereabouts. There was so much in life I was about to miss out on. I’m yet to own a motor cycle, still haven’t married Anna Kornikova (after taking her away from the clutches of Mr. Englesias) and don’t yet have the answer to puzzling questions such as how a woman’s mind works, though I do believe that is the least likely of my ambitions that will materialise.

So, there I am. All eyes on little ol’ me. Jinn is waiting for a response. His face, by this stage, is blank of all expression, cold and staring at me so hard I can feel my eyes beginning to melt. Steve is rubbing his hands in a morbid glee in anticipation of what is about to unfold. Even Gabriel, who sits on the opposite side of our computers, has stood up so he can see which of my bones gets broken first.

I have to think fast. Very fast. I have 2 choices here; say what I think, which is that the phrase ‘honest lie’ is a complete oxymoron and makes no sense, or come out with some stupid, back-out comment like “Oh, nothing – I see what you mean now” and hope for the best. Now, looking at my predicament from the outside, I’m sure you can see the best option for me is the latter. Unfortunately, I appear to suffer from some panic induced Tourettes Syndrome, where my brain is shouting at me to do one thing and my mouth says the complete opposite. It’s a strange sensation, feeling my mouth move, hearing the words come out and yet having absolutely no control over what is being said. For those of you old enough to remember, I felt like any one of the characters in ‘Betelgeuse’ when they become possessed around the dinning table and start singing ‘Day-o’. You should have seen the pure delight on Steve’s face as he realised I had said what no other would ever dare. I knew I had done wrong as I could also see Gabriel out of the corner of my eye shaking his head in disbelief. The end, was indeed, in sight…

Still, what’s done is done, right? My body had forced me into a situation I didn’t really want to be in, but now I had to deal with it. I spent the next 20 minutes trying to prove my case against a bloke who was ready to make a porridge out of my innards, stirring it every now and then with one of my thigh bones, then eat it out of my upturned skull.

It would appear, however, that I won the discussion. Not only that, I won my right to live too. I also took away a valuable lesson with me. Next time I think Jinn says something silly and I feel my mouth begin to move, I’m going to get up and walk away whilst I still can. I may have won the battle, but the war may be a different story…

anyone else ever written a cheque like mine?

[Bender]

btw, the title should read 'EVER written....', not 'Even written...'