Framed

These days playing games such as Mafia ( where you pinpoint the perp out of a list of usual suspects ) can prove to be quite a sad tribulation since everyone I know seems bent on pointing the finger at me. Forcibly tossing me in the dock without trial in spite of the fact that I had been an innocent bystander at the time of the purported murder.

Villagers : He killed the mayor! It's Paul!
Paul : Get real. I wasn't even in town on that day!
Villagers : Who else could have perpetrated such a heinous crime. It's Paul!
Paul : Aim the bloody pitchforks the other way, village idiots. I was a thousand miles away that day. I have a ton of alibis.
Villagers : He hypnotizes! He does black magic!
Paul : And I have a flying carpet too?
Villagers : Yes, he flies!
Paul : WTF.

You can imagine how limiting my role in such a game can be - especially since I get tied to the hypothetical stake not long after the riled villagers mount their lynching party. Not easy denying the irrational allegations once the fire's been lit.

As you might guess, charbroiled victims don't have much to say.

Obviously I'm one of the few around capable of committing shockingly reprehensible acts - at least by reputation. Google nasty conspiracies and you might just find my name in the list somewhere. Scorpios everywhere can be proud. But hell, I've been typecasted. Think it's about time I started practicing my wicked archetypal villain laugh ( so much beloved by overly dramatic chinese serials ).


Am I really that bad?
Well as they say... life imitates art.

So when one of my colleagues at work received a poison pen letter, they obviously ( reflexively! ) bandied about my name as one of the main suspects. When my trusted informants returned to me with the whispered accusations, I stared in shock unsure of whether to be insulted or amused.

Seriously. Me playing such games?

How dare they implicate me in such an ill-conceived scheme! Bah! Is it possible that I could come up with such a naive, simplistic plan with neither style, grace nor panache? So sadly unworthy of my evil genius. :P Please. If I wanted revenge, it'd be a dish served cold. Frozen in fact. So chilled that no one would even see it coming. And it'd have my patented signature all over it in dripping blood-red.

Now that's a plan.

cue evil laugh