COVER JUDGING

I didn't sleep much last night and my brain is lagging several steps behind my fingers, but you don't come here for filtered speech anyway.  So, on with the show. I played this game called Mafia the other night, for those of you not familiar, its essentially Clue without clues.  In the game, everyone is assigned a role, some are murderers some are detectives, some are peasants, and, depending on your part, you have to either fool your competitors and live to kill another day, or convince your teammates that someone is the killer and kill him back. Now I think its important to point out that these roles are not chosen, but rather assigned by the picking cards, they're essentially random.  So, logically speaking, the odds of the killer being the same person every time are quite low.  Accordingy, you'd think that the players would vary their guesses.  It would seem however, mathematics wilts in the face of what is apparently my homicidal well... face.  Time after time I found myself dead, the victim of some ineffable quality that makes people think I'd enjoy watching them die.  'I look guilty' they said, 'there wasn't a real crime!' I retorted, 'we should probably kill him, just in case' they concluded. 

All of this is a long winded way of asking you, is it possible I'm supposed to be a serial killer?  Did I miss my calling?  Sure there are some obvious signs: the long list of people I want to watch die, my being paler than an agoraphobic albino and my watching the entire 2009 Best All Around Taxidermist Competition at the National Taxidermists Association Convention. (It was ESPN 85, the Ocho Cinco)http://www.taxidermy.net/ Still, I don't want to give up the whole law thing on a whim. Is it possible that there's something in my face, my demeanor that was meant to kill?  I do respect the concept of destiny, and it'd be a shame if I ignored my designated fate.  After all who am I to argue with that which is predestined?  What defense would I have to not spending my life murdering and possibly eating the duodenum of my victims (I forsee them calling me the Acid Reflux Killer) when I approach the pearly gates?  How could I explain a life devoted to helping others and encouraging harmony (were clearly speaking hypothetically at this point) when cannibalism is expected?  I guess what it comes down to is this; Do you think serial killers get the Friday after Thanksgiving off?