Bang Bang Bang

Intro
         As I walk through the doors, cigarette smoke greets me with a smile of coffee stained teeth. There is a tall man, I'll call him Smoke. He has a name tag, but I'm not interested in him. He hands me a flier and a name tag, as well as a sharpie to write my name with. I write Caroline on the tag and stick it to my shirt. I find an empty pew towards the back and sit to look around. There are only about a dozen people here, and we're spread out enough that I doubt anyone will come up to me.

         Good. I hate people.

         Looking around the small chapel, I smirk to myself.

         Kind of ironic they hold meetings in a church.

         Observing the people around me, I see that there's quite a diverse population. There's Smoke, who's about six feet tall and is probably in his mid forties, he leads the group. Then there's an older woman in the front row with a bad perm and red lipstick. I'll call her Barbie. She's sitting close to a younger guy, probably upper twenties, who has over-sized glasses and early signs of male patterned baldness. He's strangely overdressed, so I'm guessing he just got off work. I dub him Suit.

         Smoke stands up to greet the crowd now. “Hello everyone,” he says, very business-like. “I'll start this evening off by introducing myself for the new people. My name is John, and I'm a compulsive liar.”

         This should be fun.

Part One

         The pattern of sharing bullshit stories continue for weeks and I grow bored. These people are compulsive liars? Please! They can't even make things interesting. Every single one of them being boring and ordinary. I've been more interested in and Algebra textbook than Smoke's repetitious narrative.

         “It all began when I went off to college.”

         Oh god, I should have hit the snooze button twice instead of showing up here again.

         But then I'm reminded why I'm here and decide to keep my opinions to myself.

         “Obviously, I'd lied before then, but that's when it became apparent that there was a problem. I'd tell people I grew up in poor family, bordering on homelessness most of my childhood, going hungry most nights. In reality I grew up in a cushy suburban four bedroom house with a nice yard and two loving parents. I wanted to seem interesting. And let's just say,” he chuckled to himself, “things definitely got interesting.”

         This poor man actually believes he's funny. He MUST be mad.

         “The first time one of my large-scale lies caught up with me was when my wife discovered that my parents hadn't died in a tragic fire. Of course, it was my slip up that allowed her to find out. I was normally very careful with my stories and was rarely caught in a lie. It happened when I sent my mother a birthday card, but I had misspelled her address and it had ended up back in my mail box with a stamp reading 'Return To Sender'. My wife checked the mail and, well, that was it.

         “Immediately she started throwing my things out the door and, for the things she couldn't lift, she grabbed a baseball bat. At the risk of losing my computer to the mercy of my wife's swing, I leapt in front of it. I couldn't take the chance of losing my life's work. I write reviews for a local newspaper, you see, and...”

         At this point I stopped listening. I'd gotten the point. His wife left, taking their daughter with her, and he turned to tobacco and boxed wine to drown his sorrows.

         Whoopty-fucking-doo.

         I take this time to look around the room. It's a small, stuffy feeling chapel. Cheap stained glass windows that were probably given as a “generous donation”. I can't even make out the images. The pews are old and dusty, I'm not sure they even hold services here anymore.

         Maybe the scum like us have taken it over for good.

         Finally, Smoke sits down and it's Barbie's turn. I'm assuming this is the first time she has shared. She is twitchy and nervous. Adjusting her hair and pulling at her shirt.

         Calm down, sweetheart. No one's worried about your damn lipstick.

Part Two
         
         Barbie is done primping she makes her way to the front of the group. As she stands on the small stage, she glances around at us. Probably gauging the hostility of the group; trying to see what we think of her. Her eyes stop on me. I wear my hatred of all of them like a neon sign.

         Why should I care about what she thinks? Why does she even care what we think to begin with.

         “Hello, everyone. My name is Kristen, and I am a compulsive liar.”

         “Hello, Kristen,” they all say in unison. It's like a play, and I am the audience. They do the same show every week, and every week I just laugh. Puppets. All of them.

         “I've been making things up for as long as I can remember. It started as a child, I would make up stories. Of course, then it all seemed harmless. My parents would ask what I did at school, and I would say I rode an elephant or met the pope. But, as I got older, they became more believable, more real. I started skipping class and drinking in high school. In college it was all legal and that only made it worse, more acceptable. Now I'm a single mom of three, my oldest being 17. He's my man of the house, because I can't keep a real man around.”

         That's probably because you're 42 and look 63 thanks to your drugstore makeup and sagging tits.

         “Lying has caused me to lose jobs, family, and even my own children don't want to be around me half of the time. I just want to save myself while I've got the chance.” She sits down and the group claps.
         
         I clapped to, softly. Great performance, Barbie. A real tear-jerker.

Part Three
         
         I hear Suit talking about how he might have the courage to share today. He's the only regular, besides me, that hasn't yet. I won't share though. No one would believe me if I said why I'm really here. Smoke starts us off by repeating the same speech as he did the first day I was here, even though there is no one new in the group. A few of his facts are off.

         Tsk, Tsk! You said you rarely get caught in a lie, Smoke. Don't tell me that was exaggerated?

         He finishes telling his story and asks if any one is willing to share. Sure enough, Suit stands up slowly, adjusting his jacket, and makes his way to the front of the chapel. I'm sure he can sense everyones eyes on him. He can feel everyones anticipation. Once he steps up on to the empty stage, he wipes the sweat off his neck and I catch a glimpse of a dark tattoo.

         “Hello,” he says, as if he's walking into an abandoned house, waiting for something to jump from the darkness. “My name is Stan, or Stanley. I'm a compulsive liar. I grew up in the church. I mean, well, not this one, just... Um. Well, let me start over. It was a Baptist church. Very conservative. My sisters couldn't wear pants and I couldn't let my hair grow more than a couple inches. We read the bible every night, I actually enjoyed it. I was taught to never lie. But my parents lied to me everyday.” He's getting angry. More sweat drips from his receding hairline.
         
         I know you're lying but why are you getting so worked up?

         He really is a terrible liar. “We went to the beach once, I almost drowned and,” He's really starting to lose it now. Smoke stands up to put a hand on his shoulder. All of the sudden, Suit twists around and I see the gleam of something metal.

         Bang!

Part Four

         Smoke is on the ground not moving. Barbie is screaming. Suit is standing there, holding the gun. I run to the front of the room but I can't move. I can't see straight. I see glimpses of a white room. It's so soft here...

         Then I'm thrown back to the chapel. Smoke's blood is everywhere. I can't hear myself think over Barbie's frantic cries, and Suit has dropped the gun and slunk into a corner.

         Shut up, you whore! I scream at Barbie. SHUT UP! But the words won't actually come out. They're stuck in my throat, and she's unaware that if she doesn't stop, someone will make her. Someone.

         BANG!

         Barbie is on the floor next too Smoke now, their blood mixing. I feel dizzy and all I can see is Suit in front of me. Screaming.

         “What have you done?!”

         What have I done? YOU shot them. Again I see the flash of the white room, there's two men in scrubs picking me up. Put me down! Put me down! The words won't come out, they're stuck. He's in danger. I look up into Suit's eyes, but then they close forever.

         Bang.

The End

         Interesting thought isn't it? This place of God is supposed to be a sanctuary for those in need. Those in need of a life better than reality. Here we are, liars, thieves, and murderers, using it as a place to share our own made up stories with others. After all, none of us are really telling the truth. Smoke still has a wedding ring on and I've seen the sports car he drives to meetings. Barbie, doesn't have any kids, just a daddy complex. Suit is an ex-con, not a religious bone in his body. And me. My name is not Caroline. And I've never been to a Compulsive Liars Anonymous meeting in my life.