We all have them. Those friends who embellish the truth to make their stories sound more exciting than reality.
One guy springs to mind. I wouldn’t call him a friend; a work acquaintance would sum it up. Haven’t seen him for years but his tall tales ring on.
Every tale he told started off innocently enough. Then it degenerated into farce.
Like the time he had to leave a work event because his wife was about to give birth. That was true enough, except when he mentioned that the baby had undertaken a miraculous recovery that even his doctor, Robert Winston had ever experienced during his career. Never.
There was also the time when he, let’s call him Glenn as that is his name, was on holiday in Romania and he, along with a number of other people, were out one evening wading through five foot of snow looking for vampires. Yup vampires. As you do. They didn’t find any vampires, but apparently they encountered a pack of wolves and the only way Glenn could escape was to shin up a tree and seek refuge in the branches, whereby the wolves couldn’t get to him. There is no report as to what happened to the others in the party or how he eventually escaped the wolves and got back to the hotel for a beer later that evening. Or why the wolves couldn’t get up a tree.
I once mentioned that I’d attended the Reading Rock Festival in 1977 and had enjoyed Eddie & The Hot Rods, amongst the other acts. But of course, Glenn had to go one further. Not only was he at the same festival, but he was in the band. Yup Glen was a Hot Rod. Yeah of course he was.
Glenn wasn’t short of tales and that’s why writers shouldn’t be short of ideas.
Listen to what people are saying. You can’t make this shit up.