Liar,+Liar

__Liar, Liar__ By Arman Gabrielian Per. 6  Alice never lied, not even once, and especially not to her mother, who would give severe consequences. Because she never lied, Alice was very innocent, or as she thought, as so if she ate just one piece of chocolate from her mother’s dinner party nothing would happen, so she tried to have one, but was utterly wronged.

“Chocolates are for our guests only, Alice,” said Alice’s mother with a chill in her voice as she slapped the piece out of Alice’s hand.

“Don’t you ever do that again, miss!” hissed Alice’s mother.

Every one of Alice’s mother’s friends came to the party, and as they did each and every one of them eyed Alice as if she were some sort of disgusting creature. For some time now, Alice was craving those chocolates, and soon she promised herself to take just one to calm her craving, and that she would think the guests took them, and she took one, but one turned into two, then four, then eight, then twenty, and soon the entire bowl of chocolates were gone by the time all the guests were gone. Going near the chocolates (or at least what used to be the chocolates but what is now the remains) Alice’s mother saw all the chocolates were gone, she automatically knew it was Alice, she could smell it, and shrieked at the top of her lungs, “Aliiiice!”

“Here I come, mother,” said Alice, not even afraid of her mother, proudly strolling downstairs, thinking how ingenious her plan was.

“I told you not to eat the chocolates!” said Alice’s mother.

“Joyous mother, you know I would never disobey you,” said Alice.

“Keen, are we now, huh? Liar! My own daughter lying to me!? No, I will not accept it! Oh, do I have something for you, you selfish bat!” screeched Alice’s mother.

“Please, mother, not that!”

“Quiet!”

Red-painted, long fingernails pinched Alice’s right ear. Alice was dragged to a broken-down attic, where she sat (by force) on an old-fashioned barber’s chair, and was strapped to it with heavy-buckled belts.

“There it is,” said Alice’s mother as she started towards a drawer full of string, zippers, thimbles, needles, and other tailoring necessities.

“Very still now; stay very still,” said Alice’s mother as she hovered over Alice’s head with a needle with some thread tied to it in one cold, pale, bony hand, and large magnifying glass in another hand.

“Wait one more minute,” said Alice’s mother.

Exactly an hour later, Alice’s mother pulled Alice up from the chair up to a mirror.

“You look so beautiful, and this is to keep you from lying ever again, even in death. Zippers would have been less painful, but less efficient in this situation; now let’s see a smile, huh?” said Alice’s mother as she watched Alice’s horrified face through the mirror, as Alice watched herself through the mirror with her mouth sewed up and violently pinned back to reveal a gruesome, bloodstained smile.