It is undoubtedly arguable that everyone has friends. Successfully meandering through the cold and complex existence commonly referred to as life in contrast without one is unlikely.
My earliest memories of a friend was as a child. For dinner my mom made a less than desirable dish, to which I said, "no thanks, I am not hungry." In her wisdom she told me of starving children in other countries who would have been happy to have such a fine and nutritious meal.
At this point I had no idea what to say, so I did what any desperate person does and turned to one of my friends.
I looked to the very first friend I ever had. I had known my first friend as long as I care to remember. However, at this point relations between me and honesty were beginning to fray. Even though I knew honesty my whole life, I found a systemic pattern of honesties advice getting me in trouble.
This time would be different. I had met some new friends and hopefully, they would not get me in trouble. One of these friends was the complete opposite of honesty. His advice started to actually keep me out of trouble. The bad side was that in rare instance his advice got me in more trouble than if I had listened to honesty. For now though, dishonesty still was not the perfect friend.
Wanting to avoid trouble completely, I turned to my newest friend. He said," why not send the food to those starving children" What brilliance I thought. It was a win-win situation. Not only would I get rid of that nasty food, but I would be saving starving children in poor countries. Maybe I would be given a new bike for such a stroke of brilliance. Better yet, maybe I would be given my own room.
Having evaluated this win-win situation, I told my mom exactly what sarcasm said. I should have known better when I heard humor laughing in the corner, but what the heck, I was going to be the happy owner of my own room.
The closest example of what happened next could be compared to seeing lighting and hearing the thunder. I had learned in school that you can tell how far a storm is by how long it takes to hear the thunder after seeing the lightning.
I would swear to this day that the pain of the slap preceded the actual movement of her hand for what seemed like eternity. It was at that point that I knew my mom’s best friend was dishonesty since she said, "you will eat it and you will like it".
Even though my friend sarcasm let me down, I turned to the friend that I should have listened to in the first place. I simply fed it to the dog, and said I ate it. Maybe I wouldn’t be a petty dictator of my own fiefdom, at least I would live to fight another day.
It was then that I learned that dogs are smart creatures, and not mans best friend. No sooner did I slip a bite down for my buddy to eat than he snifed it, snorted as if he breathed a deadly gas, and ran into the other room.
Now I was desperate. It was time to turn to the only friend that never let me down with my mom, although my dad always beat him. Sympathy told me to cry. He said she just slapped you so you can probably get a new meal out of this.
So I did as suggested. Niagara falls fell. She offered me a new meal and I had won.