I was not in a particularly good mood. My mother had made me a stuffed rabbit out of some remnants of cloth she had leftover from making some clothes. I wasn't amused. I had talked to my friend about swapping my parents for his. We decided to swap cigarette cards instead.
The day I had first met the rabbit, I had been compelled to 'exaggerate' about who I was by telling him that I was a man and not a boy, yet at the time, I had been frightened. Was being frightened an excuse, I wondered. I didn't know. What I did know was that the rabbit had said that I had lied, but then again, I was a man - I belonged to mankind, so really I was correct -- therefore, he'd had no right to call me a liar. I thought that it was time to teach the rabbit a lesson and to straighten him out about lies once and for all.
My dad asked where I was off to.
"To the river," I lied.
He was teasing me too much about, as he put it - 'all this nonsense about fat stupid talking rabbits.' If I told him that I was going to the river, that would keep him happy, and the rabbit warren was in the field next to the river so I wasn't really telling a big lie - just a small one.
. . .
I arrived at the field but I couldn't find the rabbit hole. Somebody had moved my rock. Boy, was I mad. I started jumping up and down, and kicking the ground. Then this rock got in my way so I kicked that. "That's my rock!"
I went over to pick it up and turned around to see several rabbit holes. Again I couldn't find my rabbit hole. I threw the rock down on the ground and went to the river. I picked up a stone and threw it at the fishes. Then I went home.
"I DID GO TO THE RIVER!" I yelled at my dad.
"I know son. You told me you were going to the river and I believed you."
That made me madder than heck and you can't get much madder than that.
. . .
The next day, I went back to the warren. The grass was still a little pale from where the rock had been before I had kicked it.
'I'm tired of falling down this stupid hole,' I thought.
"Then walk down. We rabbits do."
I walked into the hole and sat down. What a mess. "What happened?" I asked innocently.
"Someone was jumping up and down and kicking the ground yesterday, and part of the roof fell in."
"It wasn't me. I just went to the river. I told my dad -- he believes me."
"Do you know who moved your rock away from the entrance?" asked the rabbit.
"How would I know who kicked it out of the way? Like I said, I helped my dad all day yesterday. I didn't kick your roof in."
"Do you really believe that you are fooling me, or are you just practising?" asked the rabbit.
"My dad said you can fool some blokes most of the time, other people sometimes, and no one all the time. I think that's what he said."
"You mean - you can fool all the people some of the time, and some of the people all of the time, but you cannot fool all of the people all of the time?"
"You been talking to my dad?"
"No, that was an actual quote," said the rabbit.
"Yeah, that's what my dad said."
"But what I asked was, do you really believe that you are fooling me or are you just practising?" repeated the rabbit. I felt ashamed and felt my face go red. I don't know if there was enough light for the rabbit to see me go red.
"You know you're lying. I know you're lying. You even know that I know that you're lying, and yet you insist on tell more lies in a vain attempt to cover up your previous lies. Why? By adding more lies, do you think you will eventually convince me that you are telling the truth?"
"I don't know."
"And one more thing, telling me that you were home helping your father was nothing like what you previously told me."
"What?"
"I don't like liars," said the rabbit.
Suddenly it felt important for the rabbit to like me. "It was me," I confessed.
"I know. We all know. So why did you lie? Did you really think that if you lied, or even lied with fake sincerity, we would actually disbelieve what we definitely knew, and believe what you told us?"
"I'm sorry. I'll pay you back. Do you want to borrow my bike?"
"Haven't you learned anything? Why put yourself into a position that you have to say sorry, and why would I want to borrow your bike? Have you even got a bike?"
"I've got a tricycle and one-day mum and dad are going to get me a real bike - one with two wheels." If I shut up then perhaps I may not say anything else stupid, I thought.
"Good idea. That's the first intelligent thought you've had all day morning," said the rabbit. "At least you can't lie if you don't say anything."
"I don't lie all of the time," I confessed.
"How can I tell?" asked the rabbit.
"Because I just told you so. That's why!"
"Perhaps that was a lie."
"No it wasn't."
"Says who?"
"Says me," I stated.
"A man is as good as his word."
"But you're not a man. You're just a boy."
"I'm still as good as my word," I corrected.
"Then in that case, you're obviously not much good."
"Why?"
"You've already lied to me," stated the rabbit.
"I know, but I know when I'm telling the truth."
"You may think you know - you may even know that you know that you will never lie again, but I will never know, especially now that you've explained to me that I can't trust you.
"I started to think that telling lies was something I could not undo.
"If you steal something, you can return it, but you can't undo a lie - it's an irreversible act," said the rabbit, "An unforgivable sin. Kicking the roof in is one thing - lying about it is another."
"What do you mean?"
"I know that the roof had been kicked in," explained the rabbit, "I was under it."
I started to feel worse.
The rabbit continued, "Lying is a silent crime because it can happen without anyone knowing it happened."
"What do you mean?"
"If someone stole your tricycle, how could you tell."
"I would be gone,"
"But if it wasn't gone, how could you tell if it had been stolen?" proposed the rabbit.
"But if it's where I left it, it ain't been stolen!" I said, pointing out the obvious.
"But what if it had been stolen and returned? How would you know it had been stolen?"
"I wouldn't know!" I said, pointing out the obvious.
"So how can you tell if someone lied to you when there is no evidence to prove a lied had been told? This is why lies are considered a silent crime."
"So how did you know I lied about yesterday?" I asked.
"BECAUSE THE ROOF FELL ON ME!"
"Oh!"
The rabbit calmed down. "If a roof fell in on everyone who got lied to, they would immediately suspect they had been told a lie. Unfortunately, not all lies come with such catastrophic evidence.
"I see," I said trying, to put my past sins behind me. "So I shouldn't lie if people know I'm lying?"
"That's NOT what I said!"
The rabbit was getting flustered again - I could tell.
The rabbit continued, "Knowing how harmful lies are, we must all rely on a certain amount of faith and trust in each other to exist in harmony. Once you break that faith or that trust, you become an outcast because no one can ever trust you again. None of us is perfect, and sometimes we do things that aren't right. People will tolerate that to some extent, but they will never tolerate a liar. You can never ask a liar if they are lying or telling the truth, because you will never be able to trust their answer."
"Why do people lie?" I asked, convinced that I would never lie again.
"People lie for many reasons. Other than not knowing that they are actually lying, they mostly lie because they want to hide or distort the so-called truth."
"What do you mean, so-called truth?"
"The concept of truth is a matter for another day, but for now, we'll just deal with idealistic truth. Sometimes people don't think that you will believe the real truth, so they embellish it to make it believable -- therefore, don't be too eager to assume that everyone is lying. When it comes to deception, there are various reasons," explained the rabbit. "Everything from being insecure to just being plain stupid. Sometimes people have no confidence in themselves, and rather than be at a loss for words -- they make something up. In other words, it tends to secure their confidence when the victim of their deceit appears to be impressed with their stories. These people are easy to spot because they tend to exaggerate stories by adding attention-getting tit-bits to keep an audience interested. Other examples are - some people cannot admit that they don't know something, so they create a fact. Stupid people lie to avoid blame for something that they did."
I suddenly felt guilty again.
The rabbit went on, "But in all cases, compulsive liars are the worst. They have no real purpose in life. They just look to the present, and their only concern is to get themselves through the next moment. They neither care nor even think about what happens next because they think they can lie past whatever situation comes their way. Because these people are incapable of planning their lives to any extent, they are also incapable of planning their lies, so they make up new lies to cover or reinforce their previous lies. People who continually lie eventually become a burden on society."
"I promise that I will never lie again."
"Is that the truth?" asked the rabbit.
"Yes! Absolutely! Positively! I promise!"
"Just a plain and simple yes would have been sufficient - if it is in deed, the truth," said the rabbit.
"Yes. I won't tell another lie ever again."
"Good."
I felt better, but I wasn't finished. "What about fibs? Fibs are okay, ain't they?"
"Fibs are lies," said the rabbit.
It seemed to me, not that I could think of an example, that it was alright to lie, just as long as you didn't hurt anybody. I didn't quite know how to ask the rabbit. I knew that I wanted an answer, but I wasn't quite sure of the question so I asked, "Is that all there is about lying?"
"Not quite. Sometimes there are variations of the truth and nothing is extreme. For example, what kind of weather are we experiencing?"
I looked at the rabbit.
"Well?" repeated the rabbit.
"Oh, I didn't know that you wanted me to answer. It's fine."
"What do you mean - fine. Fine for what?"
"It ain't raining."
"It ain't raining!" repeated the rabbit. "It isn't raining. Ain't, ain't a word."
"Yes sir."
"And when wasn't it raining?"
"It wasn't raining when I came in here."
"If you look outside, you'll see that it ain't fine as you put it - it's raining. This is an example of when the truth turns into an untruth over a period of time."
"You mean when a truth turns to a lie?"
"Don't get ahead of yourself," cautioned the rabbit.
"You mean - jump the gun!"
"GUN? - WHAT GUN? - WHO'S GOT A GUN?"
Another rabbit came to the hole to find out where the gun was.
Suddenly there was pandemonium - rabbits were running everywhere. The rabbits disappeared down a tunnel
"RELAX. There isn't any gun," I shouted.
It took a few minutes for things to settle down. The rabbit came back to the hole.
"Don't do that," said the rabbit, puffing and trying to catch his breath."
I wasn't lying. It's just an expression."
"Oh." said the rabbit, still catching his breath. "Don't mention guns again. Whew!"
"I'm sorry."
"Okay," said the rabbit catching his breath. "Now, where were we? Oh yes! When confronted with a question that is time dependent, you should make a habit of specifying the time when your statement was correct."
"What?"
"In other words, you should have said that the weather was fine when you came in here, and that way, you have covered yourself against the fact that it imay have changed. This is also true when someone tells you something. Make a habit of quoting your source."
"What's a quote? I put sauce on my dinner."
Ignoring my comments, the rabbits went to say, "When someone asks you something and the only source of information is what someone told you, then say something along the lines of - '… according to so-and-so...', and then state what you were told. If you don't and the information turns out to be incorrect, you'll be where the blame will stop. If you then try to state that you got the erroneous information from someone else, it will sound as though you are trying to avoid the blame..."
"It'll sound as though I'm lying, even if I'm not," I interjected.
"It certainly will," agreed the rabbit. "However, if you quote your source of information to begin with, you can hardly be held to blame if the information doesn't turn out to be correct."
"So the other person told me a lie?"
"Just be careful and be accurate about what you say. Remember that most of what you think you know is either incorrect or is out of date. Be sure of your facts before you speak."
"If I have to check everything I have to say, I won't have time to speak," I responded.
"That could be of some comfort to those about you," pondered the rabbit. "Just bear in mind that people will do one of four things with what you tell them."
"Yeah! What?"
"They'll ignore and forget what you said or they will remember what you said. They may act upon what you said, or they will repeat what you said to someone else. The test is whether or not by telling somebody something, or even by not telling someone something, you intend to deceive them. If it is, then it is wrong."
"I think there is a fifth thing...", I interjected.
"There is?" said the rabbit surprised.
"Yes. My mum, she repeats stuff that she told somebody."
"I don't understand," said the rabbit.
"My mum, she'll tell somebody somethin', and the next thing you know, she's tellin' somebody else, but she's saying it like she's heard it from the person she already told. I know. I've heard her do it."
"Oh dear," said the rabbit. "That is bad. That is how gossip starts. You had better be aware of what gossip mongers have to say and make sure you are not 'quoted' just because you happened to have listened to what they had to say."
"I can't not listen to my mum, can I?"
"When she starts gossiping, then you had better get involved in the conversation and start asking where her source of information comes from, otherwise you are going to be quoted," advised the rabbit.
I sat quietly for a while, wondering how I could avoid mum's gossip, then my thoughts went back to what the rabbit had been saying. "But what if I say something that hurts somebody?"
"You mean when you told me that your father wanted a rabbit to make into stew?" asked the rabbit.
"No. I don't mean like that." I said, remembering how I had hurt the rabbit's feelings. "I mean like tellin' somebody somethin' they don't want to hear."
"I didn't care to hear about what your father wanted to do to a rabbit."
"I know that, but what I mean is - tellin' somebody some bad news or somethin'."
"Oh, I see. I suppose rabbit stew isn't bad news for you..."
"I ain't talkin' about rabbit stew. I asking a question about bad news."
"Well, there are two ways of looking at this..." began the rabbit.
"I only want to know one way."
"There are two ways, so listen. You can either tell them the bad news or not tell them."
"That's right. People don't like to hear bad news, do they?"
"No, but bad news is bad news nonetheless, and if they're going to hear about it sooner or later, sooner is always better than later."
"It is?"
"Depending upon the type of news, sometimes hearing bad news allows the person more time to take precautionary steps to avoid or divert a threat. Sometimes there is nothing that can be done, but, as I said before - bad news is bad news."
"What if I don't tell them?"
"Under the pretence that what they don't know can't hurt them?"
"Can it?" I asked.
"No and yes. No - usually the worst hurt is knowing that you will be hurt, therefore there is a certain truth in the fact that ignorance is bliss. And yes - things can hurt you whether you know about them or not."
"How can they?"
"Just suppose I knew that some bully was looking for you so that he could hit you, but I failed to tell you. Do you think that the danger doesn't exist just because I kept that information to myself?"
"I don't know."
"Yes you do. However, if I told you, then you would be frightened and..."
"I'd tell my dad and he'd tell 'im off..."
"If I told you," repeated the rabbit, "then you would be frightened and I would feel guilty for making you that way...""And so you should be..." I reprimanded.
"However," continued the rabbit, "an intelligent person armed with the knowledge that someone is looking to bull them would use that information wisely and would take necessary precautions to avoid the threat. Now which situation would you prefer?"
"I see what you mean," I said feeling intelligently informed.
I went home in the rain. That same morning, the man on the wireless had said that it was going to be a fine day - where he was, perhaps - but where I was, it was pouring down with rain.
. . .
When I got home, mum and dad said that they had some good news - I was going to have a brother or a sister. I wasn't sure why they didn't know which, but either way, it was great news. I was tired of playing with the neighbour's kids. Now I was going to have my own playmate. My mum said that I shouldn't refer to the neighbour's kids as kids because they weren't goats, but I already knew that. I'd seen a goat, so I knew what they looked like. Sometimes my mother said the oddest things! Sometimes she would even call someone's kids - 'poor little lambs', but lambs were baby sheep, and I knew sheep were not goats.
The next day I went to see the rabbit to tell him about the good news - that according to my mum and dad, I was getting a brother or a sister.
. . .