There have been many times where I felt it necessary to lie, but lying has been needed in one specific situation more than all the others combined. I have used this method of lying more times than I can count to avoid getting caught playing games while I was supposed to be doing educational work on the computer or iPad. Although I have been suspected many times, my mom has never produced actual proof of me playing a game -- until recently.
My “arrest” happened less than two weeks ago. Mom attempted to catch me two times, only succeeding on the second try. All this happened when I was supposedly drawing pictures for a history project. This is basically how I got apprehended.
After I found the pictures I wanted to draw, I quickly sketched a rough outline, which I planned to perfect at school the next day. Since I figured Mom would expect me to take longer than just twenty minutes to draw the cartoons, I went on Armor Games and became absorbed with Strike Force Heroes. Almost all my senses were centered at the game. Luckily, my peculiar sixth sense was still on guard and warned me just in time to save and exit the game when my mom clomped downstairs to check on me. I must have been clicking the mouse too loudly because I thought the P99 handgun was malfunctioning in the game. The page flicked out of sight just as my mom came rushing over to check my computer screen, which had just been replaced with a picture of a Despicable Me minion. I put up my innocent face and asked, “Is there anything I can help you with, madam?”
My mom took a few seconds to recover from her rush downstairs. “I just thought you were playing games,” she answered.
“I wasn’t playing games,” I said, trying to sound offended. I felt this lie was totally necessary and I didn’t feel that guilty.
“Then what was that series of loud clicks for?” asked my mom accusingly.
I hesitated a second too long, “It was just a stubborn website that wouldn’t open, so I got mad at it.” My heart was beating a bit too quick, but it immediately started slowing down as my mom seemed satisfied with the answer and went upstairs. I sighed again and continued playing with more care.
As time passed, my guard started dropping. My luck this time was pretty bad. My clicking became louder again and my sixth sense was only lazily on guard. This time the sense warned me a nanosecond too late. I was pretty sure mom saw a grey Special Forces dude carrying a Glock 22 and UMP submachine gun before it flicked out of sight. When she asked me what that thing she saw on the screen was, I shakily lied that it was the home screen. This time she didn’t seem too convinced, and continued to stare piercingly at me. I tried gallantly to return the look and actually succeeded. After all, she can’t prove I did it, I thought almost happily.
But these hopes were crushed immediately as she suddenly grabbed the mouse and went to the history button, revealing the icon of Armor Games. My mom screamed her triumph and turned dramatically to face me. “You are banned from iPad for a week,” she said with a fake sweet voice that reminded me of Professor Umbridge. Then she left, leaving me stunned.
Well, this latest attempt of lying to cover up an “illegal” act didn’t go so well. I learned from being caught playing games that it is never wise to do “illegal” things until you know how to wipe every trace of the evidence away. 
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