Written for Great Minds Think –
When Truth Has a Shadowy Challenge.
Our hosts, Sarah & Rohini, ask us to
imagine impossible situations and write
a piece where “Every Lie Becomes Visible”.
Brenda flashed her most dazzling, high-commission smile. “Welcome to your forever home,” she beamed, gesturing to the sagging entryway. Above her head, a bright, neon pink sign flickered to life: [THE FOUNDATION IS HELD TOGETHER BY DUCT TAPE AND PRAYERS]
The prospective buyers, Todd and Janine, stared directly at the glowing letters. Brenda, completely oblivious to her personal marquee, ushered them into the living room.
“Notice the natural slope of the architecture,” Brenda said, stepping onto a noticeable incline. “It gives the property so much character.” Across her forehead, electric blue cursive lit up instantly: [THE FLOOR TILTS SIX DEGREES AND WILL SUCK YOUR KIDS INTO A VORTEX]
Janine and Todd braced their feet to keep from sliding toward the baseboards. “Is the structure sound?” he asked.
“Impeccably so,” Brenda replied without missing a beat. Neon yellow block letters beamed right above her perfectly coiffed hair: [THE TERMITES ARE SEX FIENDS AND THE POPULATION DOUBLES DAILY]
Janine stepped carefully over a warped floorboard that groaned in agony. “The listing mentioned a gourmet kitchen.”
“Absolutely,” Brenda purred, leading them down the slanted hallway. “State-of-the-art appliances and custom, vintage cabinetry.” A neon green marquee began to scroll across her forehead: [THE DISHWASHER SPARKS IF YOU BLOW-DRY YOUR HAIR AND THE FRIDGE IS WARMER THAN THE OVEN]
“What about the neighborhood?” Todd asked, looking out a window that was stuck halfway open. “Is it quiet and safe?”
“Wonderfully serene with a trusted Neighborhood Watch program,” Brenda said, placing a hand over her heart. “You’ll sleep peacefully every night.” A massive, pulsing neon orange sign hovered above her: [THE NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR’S METH LAB ONLY EXPLODED ONCE IN SIX YEARS]
Janine and Todd exchanged glances. They were terrified of the house, but the entertainment value was priceless.
“And the price?” Todd inquired. “Is the seller firm?”
“They just want the home to go to the right family,” Brenda said sweetly. Her forehead buzzed loudly in bright neon violet: [THEY ARE DESPERATE TO FLEE THE COUNTRY BEFORE THE HOUSING INSPECTOR RETURNS WITH THE POLICE]
“Well,” Todd said, pulling out his checkbook. “We certainly appreciate your transparency, Brenda.”
“I always pride myself on absolute honesty,” Brenda agreed, radiant with professional pride. Above her head, a blindingly bright white neon sign flashed in triple-bold: [I AM THREE PAYMENTS BEHIND ON MY LEXUS AND WILL GLADLY SELL YOU MY MOTHER’S HOUSE WITH HER IN IT FOR A COMMISSION]
“We’ll take it,” Todd said, smiling. He scribbled a generous number on a check. “We love an honest deal, and we can tell you have our best interests at heart.” A loud, electric ZAP echoed through the tilted hallway. A blinding neon purple sign materialized directly over Todd’s head, pulsing rhythmically: [THIS CHECK WILL BOUNCE HIGHER THAN MARY LOU RETTON ON A TRAMPOLINE AND WE PLAN TO SQUAT HERE UNTIL THE HOUSE COLLAPSES AROUND US]
NAR©2026
This is “Lies” by The Knickerbockers
Everything on The Elephant’s Trunk was created by me unless otherwise indicated, and may not be used without permission. Thanks for your consideration. NAR©2017-present.
