Ask a Pathological Liar: PowerBall

Dear Pathological Liar:
My co-workers and I are in the midst of a big feud. We all pitched in together to buy 100 PowerBall tickets. As it turned out, one of our tickets had the winning numbers for the jackpot. Now the two co-workers who actually went to the store to buy the tickets say they should get a bigger share than anyone else. And they are even fighting about which of them should get the “bigger” bigger share, with one of them claiming the actual winning ticket was an extra he purchased solely for himself. The rest of us think we should split the $185 million evenly among all of us. How do we resolve this?
Signed,
Unlucky lucky numbers

Dear Unlucky:
Oh, yeah—I saw that news story about the big lotto jackpot. As it turns out, the winning numbers were from a ticket I had purchased but somehow misplaced. I do remember bumping into two people coming out of the store, and afterwards I noticed my wallet had been moved from my pants pocket to my coat pocket, and the PowerBall ticket was gone. Fortunately, I have a photographic memory, so when I saw the winning numbers in the newspaper, I was able to remember that they were the exact numbers from my missing ticket. So I know exactly how you can resolve this. You and your co-workers can expect a call from my legal team very soon.

 

Dear Pathological Liar:
I am 7-years-old. When I grow up I want to be a brain surgeon. My parents don’t have a lot of money, so I want to open a sno-cone stand to raise money for my college fund. But my dad says I am too young to have my own business. What can I say to convince them?
Signed,
Young and ambitious

Dear Young:
Your letter really resonated with me, because my father basically invented modern brain surgery, and my grandfather invented sno. Best of luck!

 

Dear Pathological Liar:
I’m in a bit of a pickle. I told my fiancée that her diamond engagement ring cost two times my monthly salary, as recommended by the De Beers diamond people. In reality, I don’t have a monthly salary as I make my living as a jewelry thief. Last week my fiancée’s best friend and I had a little too much to drink and wound up sleeping together. The details are a little hazy, but I think in the heat of passion I may have told her everything about my criminal career and the fact that my fiancée’s ring is stolen. Now I’m worried she’ll tell my fiancée. What should I do?
Signed,
Nervous in love

Dear Nervous:
Dude, you are so totally in the catbird seat here. There’s one and only solution for this, but it’s so obvious I can’t believe you didn’t see it. You need to suddenly disappear for a few days, then reappear in a random parking garage, beaten, disheveled and disoriented. When your fiancée picks you up from the hospital, claim total amnesia about what happened and almost everything else from your previous life. All you remember is her and the fact that you love her. Then, the first time you and she see her friend, scream in fear and cry out, “Don’t let her sic the bad men on me again!” This has worked for me dozens, if not hundreds of times.