Viver Sozinho

Living Alone

You know the worst thing about living alone? No alibi.
Some guy gets murdered nearby, and the cops are interviewing everyone in the area and then they come over and interview you, and they ask you what you were doing on the night in question.
"Well, officer, I was sitting at home watching TV in my underwear with the crumbs of potato chips collecting in my navel."
"And did anyone see you?"
"You think I'd act that way if anyone could see me?"
"I see. Well, that's very convenient, don't you think?"
And there it is. Bing bang boom, you're in prison for twenty years.
You see, no-one has faith in the justice system any more. I'm always interested by the families and friends of convicted murderers.
They're all saying "Oh, he was so gentle. He'd never hurt a fly. It can't have been him."
Ten appeals later, they're still standing by him, even when it seems obvious to the rest of the world that he's guilty as sin. I admire that.
And they're always so sure. No-one ever says "Well, I think he didn't do it, but there is a slight chance that he hacked up his wife and kids and fed them to the dogs."
Because I don't think I'd be like that. If someone I knew was accused of murder, I'd just be wondering whether they did it. I couldn't just come right out and say they didn't do it with a hundred percent certainty. 'Cause people are strange, and you never really know them. Maybe your sister will turn out to be an axe murderer.
And maybe they didn't do it. But whoever did do it has family and friends who are totally sure that they didn't.
I think my articles are getting less and less coherent. Don't worry, it's just a sign of my spiralling into madness. You get like that when you live alone.
This has been my amazing brain. Signing off.