Lies / Mensonges Take 2

Publié le par miss link

"I assure you! I climbed Mount Everest! In 1999!!"
"Ah come on! In 1999 you were 17."
"I did it! I tell you!!"
"You were at SCHOOL at the time!"

Paul was a compulsive liar. There was nothing he could do to stop himself from lying. His particularity was that his lies were gigantic, megalomaniac, and of course not at all plausible. No one ever believed him. Which made him feel very frustrated.
Apart from that, Paul was a normal guy, working in a norma software company, having some success in his work but not too much, and having a pretty girlfriend he intended to marry some day. He had tried to stop lying at many occasions, had realized it was an addiction, had seen a therapist for many years, had even tried 12 steps programs and support groups, drugs, pills, alcohol, and other addictions. Nothing worked.
He felt sometimes as if his lying was some kind of special version of the Tourette syndrome. He just couldn't help it!
In a way, he thought, he was lucky that his lies were too big to be believed, so people could easily disentangle right from wrong. Still he was in a very uncomfortable situation. Until he decided to write.
To use his lies and write them. He put details into them, learned to really enjoy and develop them.
He became quickly a very successful novelist.



"Mensonges!" Il frappa la table de son poing, puis d'un mouvement circulaire la dégagea violemment de tout ce qui était dessus. "Ce n'est qu'un tissu de mensonges!"
Son visage était très rouge, ses yeux semblaient sortir de leurs orbites, les deux carotides battaient visiblement le lon de son cou. Elle ne l'avait jamais vu aussi furieux de sa vie/
Elle aurait voulu pouvoir lui assurer qu'elle ne disait que la vérité, et s'offusquer qu'il ne la croie pas. Mais 'est sûr que le coup de la visitation de l'ange, c'était un peu gros et présomptueux pour expliquer sa grossesse inattendue.
Elle pensa à son amant, à ses yeux et son regard quand il lui faisait l'amour, histoire d'avoir la force d'affronter ce qui allait suivre. Et d'un coup, elle contrattaqua. Elle se leva brusquement de sa chaise en bois, et frappa elle aussi le poing sur la table. "Assez", hurla-t-elle. "Tu veux vraiment savoir ce qui s'est passé? Il s'est passé que ça fait 6 mois que tu ne me touches plus, et 2 ans que tu ne me regardes plus et que j'ai bessoin d'EXISTER, moi! Alors voilà. J'ai un amant, si tu veux le savoir. Je l'aime. D'ailleurs, tiens. Je te QUITTE!"
Et là-dessus, elle tourna les talons, et quitta la pièce en claquant la porte, laissant son mari pantois, le dos rond et le bras ballants, debout à côté de la table de la cuisine.

Publié dans Ecriture

Commenter cet article