Current Catchphrase: (Said after "defending" myself from inevitable attacks) "This banjo's got teeth!!"
Current Music: Go Get the Ax (Gotta love a song with an applicable message - "Go get the ax, there's a flea on Lizzie's ear...")
At 11:49 last night, Mr. Neil was found pummeled to death with a breakaway chair tied to a Nerf ball, or so it would seem. In fact, it wasn't Mr. Neil, but a paid impersonator, whose duties included acting as a makeshift mirror when only a plate glass window was available, splitting the cost of income taxes, and making lucrative Double Mint commercials with his employer. In a case like this, only a made-up colloquialism congealings of words will suffice, so...
Neil: So, someone's trying to do me in. Luckily no one important was hurt, as I had yet to deliver my doppelganger's final paycheck before the fatal blow. Now there's only one course of action, other than calling the police, which would require the tedious pressing of at least seven buttons, and I can't be bothered with manual labor. Yes, the only thing to do is to catch the culprit using my cunning and wit...or at least all the power of my self-delusion to that effect.
First off, I'll narrow down all of the potential suspects, to only those whose eyes light up every time I recite that anecdote about that time I tried sticking my head in that outlet. Of course, that includes most of this hemisphere, so I'll have to be content with the four people who won't reject my overuse of cliché mystery movie devices.
I've invited (I.E. Blackmailed) the following individuals to spend the night at an abandoned old mansion whose sole purpose is to be rented out to expose killers. You have to pay extra for the suspicious butler, but he comes with the guarantee to take responsibility for the murderer's crimes so the detective can save face if need be. Anyhow, here are the prime suspects, in order of most to least likely:
Jon (a.k.a. Sarcastro) - He claims that he's my Arch Nemesis, though for that to be true, I'd really assume he should be a formidable foe. Also, considering his devotion to copying me as closely as possible in timeless facial hair styles and my witty catchphrases, he has to most to gain in getting my duplicate out of the way. Yes, poor Jon interviewed for the position a record number of times, to be my personal clone, but I've always found his grammar and poise lacking. Plus, I think his cross dressing might get my likeness entered into the wrong kind of contests.
Kate (a.k.a. Phoenixst) - If she's not drawing gory pictures, she's detailing in her writings the best way to forcefully remove anthropomorphic characters' entrails. She's made it her life's mission to make me appear foolish (I SAY GOOD LUCK, MADAM! BETTER TURKEY BASTERS HAVE TRIED!) and as such, I can only surmise, would like nothing more than to rearrange my position when I die so I look like my final act was something inappropriate, such as nostril exploration, kissing a lamp, or conceivably, certain hand gestures that are only meant for the open road. In any case, why wait for the inevitable day that I choke on a live newt, when she can kill me now? No, that's not an open invitation, I'm just trying to prove the point that I'm not wasting these four peoples' time, which could be better spend buying me shiny, overpriced things.
Mat (a.k.a. Ravage) - A sad tale of a soulless killing machine specifically bred by the US Military. There's nothing he likes more than to bite into a person's jugular, though why specifically target one of this generation's snappiest dressers (i.e. me)? (I still say that wrinkles enhance the visual flow of my attire) The answer is quite clear-cut...I'm honey roasted. Why suffer though dry, flavorless, gamey hobos when only Mr. Neil's special blend of spices and herbs will hit the proverbial spot? One wonders why I would bother to spend 16 hours daily to find the tastiest compliment to my flesh, which can be simply explained away as a ridiculous question to ask, when you really think about it. Plus, I'm far to busy with my culinary endeavors to research it.
Zack (a.k.a. Zack) - Why include the least able bodied of all among the ranks of my would-be assailants? Why is Zack: on such a list that would require him to be able to engage in feats implausible of his specific genetic variant? Sure, he can't lift more than his bodyweight (25 pounds), he forgets integral equipment rules (point the gun *away* from your face), and he exhibits incidents indicative of his lack of common sense (maybe I can bury my victim *before* the battle to the death to save time) So why include him? Well, *who* else would agree to bring a covered dish to a murder inquisition?
(The four suspects enter the room)
Neil: I bet you're all wondering why I called you all here, out in the middle of nowhere, in a building so rife with asbestos, house pets have a tendency to instantly fossilize here. Quite simply, a wrong has been committed, *so* wrong was it, that good deeds pale in comparison, even though it's not really fair to compare the two, considering...
Jon: Oh great, you think that one of us killed your stupid stunt double.
Neil: Well, you just ruined all of the suspense and theatricality! You're turning my murder-party into a farce, and not the good kind, where no one learns a lesson!
Jon: I'm not even warmed up yet...by the end of the evening, I'll have you convinced that *you* did it.
Neil: Speaking of which, I suppose I *don't* have an alibi for that night. If only I knew my whereabouts during the time in question, but you know how secretive I am...
Kate: Can I pull the switch when you fry for your crime!?!
Neil: We'll see...
Mat: (points) Are you going to eat that?
Neil: My left ventricle? Well...no....but then again I'm not in the habit of...
Mat: I CALL DIBS!! (Lunges and starts chewing on Neil's sternum)
Neil: Well this is annoying. Does anyone have a cheese grater? I can never get these things off...
Zack: I brought salad tongs!!
Neil: Your covered dish is a salad?
Zack: No...Tomato Soup!
Neil: Then why would you...I mean what purp...never mind...(breaks lamp over Mat's soft spot)
Neil: Now...down to business...I've locked all of the doors and windows, and escape is impossible. So...uh...essentially when we find out who the murderer is...we'll uh...be... trapped in here...with the psychopath. I'm wishing I hadn't swallowed the key now.
Kate: I can get it back with the tongs! (pushes Zack down and takes them) Now open wide, and make a hole in your throat for me! (Stabs Neil with tongs)
Neil: YAAAAA! Stop that! (swipes tongs and puts them safely in his back pocket) Now, the way I see it (has a seat) YAAAAAAAA! (Yelled in a much higher pick than previously)
Zack: Am I the only one getting lost with all this exposition?
Jon: Pretty much.
Mat: Did you shed any blood? Can I paint my face with it?
Neil: (glares) Now as I was saying, where were each of you on the night in question?
Jon: I was at work, shaking customers down for pocket change, in exchange for letting them continue to have working legs.
Neil: Admirable, yes...but can you prove this?
Jon: We have surveillance tapes... that look the same for every night I'm there...and that *I* have access to...
Neil: Well, I guess that rules you out.
Jon: Sometimes I tamper with the film, just to go out and get a beer. It's really easy to make it look like your there when you're not.
Neil: For crying out loud, spare me your life's story, I *said* you were out of the running.
Jon: Sometimes I wonder why I go through all this effort to come up with lies, when you won't even listen to me.
Neil: *Sigh* Kate, maybe if you tell me were YOU were that night, It'll drown out Jon's desperate pleas for attention.
Kate: I was too busy plotting how I was going to murder you ...
Neil: Well, that's relatable...many a night I've spent finding my weaknesses to use against myself...MAT? How 'bout you...?
Mat: Have you ever tried gnawing through a human skull?
Neil: Hmmm...that *would* take all night. Weighting the density of the cranium against the ruggedness of the human tooth, or grimy cougar fang in this scenario, I'd estimate it would take at least 40 hours, if you really do a "half rear-ended" job.
Mat: Uh...I think you're calculations are a bit off...let me show you (grabs Neil's head)
Kate: I'll hit him with my piñata stick to break the scalp and make it easier for you to digest!
Neil: Not necessary...I can break my *own* scalp! I mean...WAIT! I don't need a demonstration, get back in your cage, Mat! There's ...uh...a tasty baby inside...
Mat: I'm there! I love the noise they make when you crunch into them!
Neil: Now, I know it's a moot point, but where were *you*, Zack?
Zack: I was deciding if tomato soup or ramen noodles would be better to bring...
Neil: Zack, that would mean that I invited you to this inquisition *before* the murder...I think you're getting your dates mixed up...
Zack: No, I'm pretty sure that's what happened. So I decided to research what brand to buy at the library...
Neil: ...which would have been closed at the time of the murder...
Zack: Hey, you're right! I better turn myself in for breaking and entering!
Neil: Forget it...even if you *were* the assassin, I don't want to have to sit through a trial with you on the stand.
Jon: Can we go now?
Neil: Hey! No one leaves...ever! I mean, until I find out who committed this mildly upsetting act! Now Jon, you've expressed my (obviously non-existent) failings with more lotheful gusto than anyone else. I tend to think, despite your perceived perfection of me, you can't stand me.
Jon: Perfection? You're balding and can't go four minutes without mentioning Popeye cartoons, while I simultaneously beat you at everything you hold dear.
Neil: See...despite the fact that you worship me as a hero, you nitpick, and say things completely untrue. We all know that I've never lost to *anyone*, especially someone who can't tell the difference between Bluto and Brutus.
Jon: What are you talking about?! Remember the time I duct taped you to your bed? If the firemen hadn't arrived, you'd *still* be stuck there! And, remember the time that I locked you out of your room when you were having those seizures because you forgot to take your medication? For crying out loud! I made you *bleed* once during a battle with foam blocks!
Neil: See, I think most of those things didn't happen, that you were so woozy from my beatings that you must have collapsed and hallucinated those memories.
Jon: And the photographs?
Neil: Taken completely out of context! Many the night, I've glued myself to the wall with you pointing and laughing. It looks like my predicament is making you laugh in the photo, but really it's something just out of view of the camera's range. Just for these lies, I'm making you the main suspect!
Jon: OK...but if every time we're pitted together is indicative of how the trial will turn out, I don't think I'll be losing too much sleep over this one.
Neil: Get into the cage with Mat!
Neil: And by that, I mean...stay out of the cage. See...you do whatever I command! Just another example of my tremendous sway over you. Now before you can get a word in edgewise...KATE!!!...*You* have openly threatened me, and even *consulted* me a few times about the best way to finish me off...
Kate: Oh...thanks for the hedge trimmer suggestion, incidentally...
Neil: Not at all. Anyhow, I find it hard to believe that you *never* intended to put your plans into action, as you've often claimed.
Kate: I meant as long as I didn't want you dead...
Neil: And this timeframe would be...
Kate: ...finished the day I met you.
Neil: Yes...well. You don't think that makes you a pretty likely suspect?
Kate: I told you...I won't kill you until the day you die at my hands...
Neil: Well that seems fair enough. Sorry to have bothered you...
Kate: You should buy me something expensive to make it up to me...
Neil: Well, I suppose that's in order. What do you want?
Kate: Poison dart gun, and a dart board with your picture on it, so I can practice hitting you in the eye, for when I really need to.
Neil: Well, you can't say it's not practical. In any case, MAT!!! Aside from my fragrant nature, you've stated in the past that you were going to *especially* enjoy tearing holes in me where they didn't belong.
Mat: Let me out, and I'll show you what I mean!
Neil: Answer the question!!!...that...uh...I didn't ask yet...Why would I be such a target for your rage?
Mat: Remember the time you saved my life? I think it's a sign of weakness, and it makes me want to cut and cut you until there's noting left to cut, and I have to resort to freezing your liquid remains to keep going.
Neil: If I had known that, I never would have choked on that peanut, fallen backwards, and accidentally pushed you out of the way of that charging bull!
Neil: Yes, well...ZACK!!...
Zack: Smell this for me...Is this light bulb still fresh and edible?
Neil: *Sigh* Forget it. I'm sick of all this tension building, time to get to the bottom of this...Now what would you say, if I said I had undeniable proof of the assailant's identity!? If I said, there was a video camera in that dank alleyway!! (pulls out cassette) That's right, the assassin will get what's coming to...
(The lights go out, and a cacophony of sounds are emitted)
Neil: Hey! Where did everyone go? I was bluffing! Now how am I going to find out who was to blame...(shrugs)...Eh...They were probably all innocent, and had to use the restroom or something...
Well, there you go, a happy ending, or at least as far as murder mysteries are concerned. Why *don't* more of those end on more upbeat notes? In any case, post any admissions of guilt or pastry recipes by clicking below...