Murder Mystery

    “Did I ever tell you about the time I was accused of murder?”

    This is a common way for me to start conversation at a party. My wife hates it. She says it puts out the wrong vibe. Makes people think of me in a different way. But, they take the bait. I plow on.

    “Murder? Murder you say?”

    This is usually said in a way that could best be described as blend between Alfred Hitchcock and Sherlock Holmes.

    “Yes, Murder.” And here, they are roped in. I have made a friend, or at least pleasant company for the evening. “You see, it all started like this:

    “My wife and I, we were at this sock hop.”

    “A sock hop you say?”

    “Yes. A sock hop. Don’t ask. Don’t get immersed in the details. Anyway, this 1950’s sock hop, sure started out swell. But, soon: Disaster! There she was, this young gal, poodle skirt, pig tails, just a twisting away on the dance floor when suddenly, the lights when out and, when they returned there she was, dead, on the dance floor. I was the closest to the body so, naturally, I was prime suspect. But, I knew I didn’t do it. I just couldn’t convince them. So, as we sat down and ate our dinner, the facts poured in. Witnesses testified, physical evidence was examined, a greaser, complete with rolled up blue jeans, slicked back hair and a soft pack of Marlboro reds slammed his hands down on my table and insisted upon my guilt. But I didn’t do it, and I used my wits and logic to prove it.

    “It turns out,” I continue, “That it was the greaser,” and with that, I get up and walk away. Leaving them wanting more.

    What I don’t tell them… and this is where my wife gets upset, is that this was all a ruse. This was simply a 1950’s theme murder mystery dinner. I try to sprinkle these clues in, but I guess my storytelling is too convincing and people believe that it really happened.

    January 19th of 2017, the Murder Mystery Co. is bringing a 1950’s themed murder mystery to the Old Spaghetti Factory on Bancroft just inches away from Downtown Portland, and I’ll be there. If it’s anything like last time, it’ll be a swell night swell despite the disaster. It’ll be a chance for me to don my Greaser outfit and for my wife to get all dolled up for dancing in poodle skirts, bobby socks, and a pony tail with a floppy hair bow. She loves dancing, I love murder mysteries and we both love dinner. It’ll be a night of fun and whodunnits and I can’t wait. I just hope this time I luck out and discover that I am the killer. That would be a real conversation starter.

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