Honesty In A Bucket

One week ago, Amir had asked me if I could be his referee for this all-important, make or break interview called Temuduga Tapisan Halus Keselamatan in Putrajaya. The catch was, instead of only him, I’d get to be interviewed as well. Little did he know I hate interviews - which I abhor more than waking up at 7 in the morning for a jog - and that’s saying a lot!

But in a slightly more tasteful gesture of friendship than a pendant vial filled with my own blood, I said Yes.

Anyone who thinks ‘honesty is the best policy’ wasn’t in this room the other day.

“Do you have any reason to believe, beyond the reasonable doubts that En. Amir is a heavy smoker?”

“Of course not, he loves his internal organs so much to ruin them”

(Gulp. The dreaded truth is that he’s probably the single biggest ozone-ripping producer in the world that I have ever had the displeasure of knowing.)

Think I committed a sin, did you? O No, I was only telling the ‘half-truth’, barefaced to the interviewer - he does, in fact, love his organs.

Yeah I know, I didn’t give the whole truthful answer but how could I? He’s my best friend and if my 'little' white lies can buy me lunch, I’ll be lying some more for him, I tell you that. But the real fact is I do care if he couldn’t be confirmed his position due to my reckless lying skills, so be it.

And just make it quite clear to everyone I am a big fan of honesty myself. You see, in a remote little country called Mus-land, lying is sinful and honesty is gold. But up until last week, only that I realized, in the real, ruthless world people lie as an easy way out in the name of survival.

The truth can often shame the devil pink. But it can also hurt, which is why a fib is sometimes better than the fact. O my!

Disturbing innit? I think I need to shower.