A fine complication.
Why, I was not even aware that there was any ‘controversy’ to begin with.
But you know – it is so easy to be made to look like the bad guy, really. So easy.
And especially so when you are all on your own, while the other party has loaded their guns with a resounding whirr-click, all polished and gleaming to the tip. And they all come together as one, cornering you down.
Like, doing negotiations in a dark, dingy room. Circles of cigarette smoke waft to the ceiling; freckles of dust swirl in the only source of light coming from the adjoining room from a hidden crack on the wall. He drums his fingers on the round table and takes in another puff, doing further damage to his lungs. See not his face hidden in the shadows; only his green-as-algae bowtie with pink dots. And the tell-all shuffles of feet of his men behind him as they adjusted their positions, probably trying to get a clean shot.
On the opposite side of the table: me. But my mouth was duct taped. Or rather, I chose to. Did you think my hands were tied? I think they were. Behind my back. Duct tape, wonderful stuff. Oh wait, this would not be a ‘negotiation’ really…
In fact, this whole affair is pretty ironic, considering their bigger number. Hey, am I not supposed to be the evil one around here? Heck, I do not even have a sidekick or a slave to do my dirty work for me. Smirk.
No one knows the story whole. Neither do I – although yes, I am also reportedly the scheming landlady who goes around kicking people out of their houses.
And permit me to reiterate – because no one knows the story whole, stop pretending that you do.
For once, I am just so tired, that I guess I do not mind being the bad guy after all.
It bears no explaining, because it is not worth it.