Pants on Fire: Part Deux

Thanks for guessing, y'all! And glad to know I'm not alone in stories of my youthful miscreance. But now it's time to come clean. Here are the verdicts:

1. I once got caught doing it with my boyfriend on the 17th hole of Moon Valley CC golf course late at night. The greens keeper drove up in his ultra quiet golf cart and warned us, with a toothy grin, that the sprinklers were about to come on and we ought to move in a hurry if we wanted to stay dry. VERDICT: True, but it wasn't the 17th hole.
2. I once got caught doing it with my boyfriend on the shore of a quiet city lake late at night. The sheriff and his deputy tip-toed over a ridge to find us, brandishing badges and a really bright flashlight. Sheriff suggested we get dressed and consider abstinence since we were so young (Hey, I was legal!). VERDICT: True, but sheriff did not suggest abstinence.
3. I once got caught doing it with my boyfriend in his bedroom by his eighty-plus-year-old grandma, who freaked and kicked me out of the house, then tattled to his parents. I fixed her by marrying him. VERDICT: True, but Grandma did not kick me out.

So the fact is, they are ALL true but for one eensy-weensy, itty-bitty, kinda-white lie. Guess my pants are on FIRE! Is that bad?
Surprised about the verdicts? Did you forget where you were? Hello-o-o-o!

F-R-A-G-R-A-N-T L-I-A-R

And just to tame the curiously wandering minds out there, the referenced boyfriend and I dated from the time I was 18 through 20, when we got married. He is the "father" of my four children. [I use that term lightly, since when I divorced him after some years of abusive behavior, he went into hiding and became the pillar of Deadbeat Society. It was almost always just me and the girls.]

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