Lying works on a scale, of course. The small lies we tell to spare feelings and to expedite situations are mostly harmless and mundane. Somewhere further down the line are lies like "Of course I paid the electricity bill" as you sit in the dark and try to ponder what could have gone wrong. And it's in this neighborhood, this singles mixer of the untruthful and untrustworthy, that you'll find the worst liar in the world: the Indignant Liar. For even a liar who claims to have traveled to Mars and impregnated vast numbers of supermodels and pop stars while he was there is not quite as hard to deal with as the liar who says, "I didn't eat the last cookie," with a fearsome, defensive rage and accusing glare that translates to "How dare you accuse me of such devilry," even as chocolaty crumbs tumble from his lying fucking lips.
"Go ahead, call me a liar to my face."
Yes, the Indignant Liar is the liar who backs his lies up with attitude designed to make you feel like shit for calling out the lie. You're the fuckstick here, not him. You're the asshole who dares cast such aspersions, not him. And if he's really good, he'll actually make you second-guess yourself. And if he's really bad, he'll enrage you because you will have caught him red-handed and still -- still! -- he'll indignantly deny the entire debacle and offer the alternate suggestion that maybe you're stupid.