Lies can be harder things to fix since there's so many categories of lies. Black, white, big, small, compulsive, and so on.
Sometimes if you tell yourself something over and over and over again, it becomes true. Such as, if you tell yourself, “I am going to have a good day today,” then eventually you will have a good day. However, if you tell a lie over and over again, it doesn't exactly come true. It comes undone. It'll start out just like any other think on its way to becoming a thing. But it unravels.
One big lie is just like a shirt. Little lies are threads. If you tell one lie, you will eventually have to weave other little lies into it. But you may forget some of the little lies you weaved in and that can cause other lies to fall apart. Your shirt unravels and you're left standing in the cold, exposed.
All too often, the Fixer repairs damage done by lies, misconceptions and half-truths. These can be rather heart-breaking. Old wives tales, superstitions, and hearsay. People who use textbooks and scripture as tools of influence and control all too often make appointments with the Fixer.
The Fixer walks down a small rural road and comes to a house with a front yard fiercely populated with dandelions.
A man, presumably the father of the thirteen-yearold boy the Fixer was scheduled to meet today, was sweating, pulling dandelions out by their roots. He hears the sound of a man's boots stepping on the gravel. He looks up at the man wearing cowboy boots, “Oh, good. You're here.”
The dad sits down in a cheap plastic lawn chair under a shady tree and watches the Fixer apply the weed killer onto the lawn.
The Fixer drops a bottle of weed killer, drenching the last patch of dandelions in the yard with weed killer. His shirt and pants suffer the same fate.
“Mind I wash up inside?” the Fixer shows his wet hands as an offer of proof.
“Go ahead, the bathroom is up the stairs, to the right. Door's unlocked.”
The Fixer entered the house and went down the stairs, to the left. He knocked on a bedroom door, a voice called out, “What?”
“Hi, there,” the Fixer entered the room.
“Who are you,” the boy responded.
“I'm the weed killer guy your dad called earlier today. I came here to fix the dandelion problem.”
The boy was sitting on his bed, hands folded in lap, back facing the Fixer. The Fixer made his way over to the desk, stepping over some fallen books and picks up a tipped chair.
He walked up next to the boy, moved his hand back and fourth but the boy sat very still.
“Do you know what an urban legend is?” the Fixer closes the door for it was to be a very private conversation. The Fixer explained a few things to the boy and went off on his way.
The Fixer tipped his hat to the dad that was still resting in the lawn chair, ”Thanks so much for your help. These damn weeds just didn't want to die! I'd kill them, and then they'd pop up again the very next day! Sometimes they even pop up twice a day! It was maddening!”
Confidential file