One Halloween when I was about 7 or 8, my mom made me the coolest princess costume. It was a long pink, green and white dress with lots of lace, and a pointy hat with a veil hanging down from the top. I loved it so much. I was the envy of every girl in my class that Halloween, and I swear I got more candy than any other year trick or treating. I felt like a real princess.
Anyway, after Halloween, my mom packed it away in a box in our attic, and I forgot all about it. One summer afternoon a year or two later, I was up in the attic fooling around and going through other people's shit, when I found the dress. Man was I excited! I pulled it out of the box, and threw it on over my fluorescent t-shirt and shorts. It still fit! YES!
I excitedly began dancing around the attic (which was quite a feat since the ceiling was very low and there was shit wall-to-wall). I had to carefully maneuver around boxes and old furniture and assorted other crap. Everything was going great, and I was a princess once more, until I felt a sharp yank on the back of the dress. I froze. What the hell was that?? Did Lisa catch me and was she gonna make fun of me? Was it a ghost? The Devil?
Slowly, I turned around to see that the bottom hem of the back of my beautiful princess gown was caught in the blades of our huge attic fan. This fan was set into the wall of the attic, about 4 feet tall with no protective cover, and helped to circulate air through our very old house in the summertime. And right then it had my gorgeous dress in it's grasp.
I didn't know what to do. I tried to yank the dress out of the blades, but that was a bad idea. Now I had somehow gotten the dress out of the blades and into the center of the fan, and it was now slowly pulling me towards it, and eating the shit out of my dress. I started panicking and pulling harder, but my puny muscles were no match for this giant steel monster. I was being sucked into the fan, and was too scared or stunned to think about calling for help. I think a decent amount of embarrassment might have played into it too. I frantically looked around for some way to turn the fan off, but there was nothing. Luckily because of the fabric stuck in the gears, the fan was moving much slower than usual, or I would've been dead. I kept pulling and yelling and cursing, all the while inching closer to certain death for both me and my dress. Finally with one enourmous YANK! the dress pulled free.
I fell back onto the old wooden floor, exhausted and wide eyed. I got up and pulled the dress off, which was now just a shirt with a bunch of dirty pink, green and white shreds in place of the once-majestic skirt. Quickly I shoved it back into the box, and ran down the attic steps, slamming the door shut behind me.
When we were selling that house about 5 years later, we went through everything, looking for stuff to throw out or put in our yard sale. When my mom pulled that dress out of the box, she was like,"My god, what happened to this???". I tried to sound totally casual, like I didn't almost die in that dress, and said,"I don't know. I haven't touched it since that Halloween.".
The whole point is, as a kid, I was a fucking liar.