I have been offered various scenarios and it is anybody’s guess as to which is the true one, but I’ll present them all for you to consider.
Apparently, so I was told, a few big someones, the equivalent of Antifa’s in the real world, known as Flaggers, did not like my style of writing and posting on Steemit, so a hit man was sent. The other theory is that I’m schizophrenic and sent the hit man myself. The last theory is one that will break my heart if it is true (it does count as a separate theory, even though connected to Steemit). I am told that my son, who adopted me on Steemit, wanted to experience how it feels to commit patricide…which sort of explains why he adopted me. Or else, maybe he just got tired of having me around. It happens on the internet, so we are warned.
Maybe there are other explanations, but I doubt the courts are interested in my theories of alternate realities and characters created by me being to blame - though I’d love to know how they paid the hit man. It is better, my attorney says, that I try to restrict myself to the facts.
Briefly then, I had reasons to know someone is out to get me (and I do not mean sexually) and as I am useless at fighting back, I installed bullet proof windows and doors and kept myself locked up in my apartment.
I heard someone knocking and after seeing the visitor is my brother, I opened the door for him. As he entered he starting talking and I could hear my food was starting to burn, so I rushed to my kitchenette. I let my brother continue talking while I took a long and sharp knife to slice my tomatoes and other salad ingredients. I happened to look up and saw the front door was ajar. Before I could move, a huge butch woman entered.
I knew that my goose was cooked now, despite it not being on the menu, but I was more worried about my brother being harmed (he is deaf and did not realise anything was happening and merrily continued telling me his news).
The creature rushed to me and instinctively I raised my arm which was holding the paring knife. It stopped with its face just inches from my knife tip and laughed at me as it spoke with an Arab accent.
“Pussies like you always freeze. See, I stand here and wait for you to use knife. Are you going to kill me?” I still stood frozen, so it added, “After you, I kill that other old man? Yes, that buys me an extra virgin.”
Well, at that I tried to force my hand to move, but it only slightly inched towards a gloating eye and stopped, stuck as if I am in a nightmare. Suddenly I recalled experiences gained from living in this apartment and without thought, the knife sliced into the eye.
“You hurt me! You are evil, a homophobe, an islamophobe - a racist! This is a Hate Crime!” It glared at me out of its other eye. “You had frozen, just like all soft white old men do, how could you blind me?”
I see it raise an arm with a machete held in its meaty, tattooed with ‘mummy’ over the knuckles, fist and using the same experiences I felt my hand slash out, burying the knife in the big stomach.
Instead of using its death throes to kill me, it asked again, “….but…how?”
I told it, “Because of my neighbours I have a continuous stream of cockroaches and I always missed them when I tried to kill them because of my hesitating, wanting to work out which way it will go. So, I learnt I must just instantly hit without stopping to think. Sorry, but I pretended you are a cockroach.” I then asked, “Can you tell me who it is that wants me dead?”
I was wasting my breath, for it died with an outraged look in it’s one eye as it kept muttering, “Cockroaches…cockroaches…”
My brother must have suddenly seen the door was open, for he called out an apology and went to shut it.
I wish I had a Hercule Poirot of Sherlock to work out for me who sent the creature to murder me, as it means I cannot relax. Your Honour, would I maybe be safer locked up - if there are no cockroaches there?
