Compulsive Liar Unaware Friends Don’t Believe His Bullshit

“I have a second interview for a manager’s job with Apple now on Monday,” Dermot Burns told an old school friend James Casey today, after meeting him for the first time in three years outside the local post office. “Yeah, I have a good chance of getting it now they said – flew through the IQ test.”

“I’ll be on seventy grand a year in there and I’ll get a huge discount on computers too, if you’re ever looking?” he added, now taking out his mobile phone in a bid to exchange contact details.

“Ah, that’s great Dermot, but I’m fine for computers at the moment, good man.” diverted Casey, recalling the time Dermot claimed his mother was dead for a whole week during school in order to bum cigarettes from him.

Burns, a renowned pathological liar in the town, was completely unaware he had such a label, thus changing absolutely nothing about himself over the years, only the number of unbelievable stories he spouts on a daily basis.

“You still doing that astronaut course you were talking about on Facebook last week?” asked Casey, now just amusing himself and the rest of the people in the queue.

“Ah,… Am…. Not now, no.” he replied, slightly confused, as if forgetting his own lie. “This job will have me working twenty four seven, so I won’t have time for that.”

“Did you hear the mother died a few months ago?” he said out of nowhere.

“Again!?” replied Casey, chuckling to himself unaware this time he was actually telling the truth. “You’re a gas man Dermot boy.”

“Here, have a smoke for yourself.” he added, handing him a fresh family box.

“Ha, thanks.” said Burns, now wondering why everyone is so cold to him. “Sure, I’ll give you a shout for a pint sometime lad?”

“Sure thing Dermot. When you get that job we’ll deffo go for one to celebrate.” he finished, winking smartly at other people in the queue.