Por favor, Senor?

(Pc: https://chscourier.com/features/2019/04/23/murder-mystery-night-2019)

'Por favor, Senor?" a face still puzzled before it burst like a watermelon with a bang. A typical face, a face so unremarkable that when you pass through a crowded plaza it disappears among the common, that face behind which hope has been extinguished, wrinkled by time suppressed by the system of clowns that makes us laugh, we forget we are laughing on ourselves as the greatest clown jests on his high chair playing with his strings making us dance to his desire. 

The life that was just a moment ago thinking, breathing, and existing is now no more, it is just a corpse. A woman's scream next door, an abrupt awakening of the neighborhood, and the sweaty face of the murderer who flees from the hold whence he came. That being said, there is banging and abrupt opening of the door, someone is calling the police and some ambulance. Nothing is out of place, nothing just the corpse, identified as a middle-aged gray hair white skin in his pajamas, a bachelor as the officer notes down and starts asking questions. 

And let's end the plot for now, what is life? Is it not chaos, why would someone murder someone, it is a mystery. Indeed it is. Playing Sherlock Holmes may crack the case within a certain timetable or the case may remain unsolved if the murder in question was clever enough to leave no clues whatsoever. Taking someone's life takes courage. It needs the persistent will to do the unthinkable. Abhorred by society the crystallization of civilization cannot permit a part of its cog to be eliminated if it is important enough and if it is not it will be discarded for something more important. You see there is always this thing a common man cannot live with, it is chaos, and it is easy to let it in. Murder is the stimulant of chaos, fueled by motive and absolved by the will of reality even an idealist had to do it. The thing is none wants to be the one to pull the trigger, even god he wants to bring an agent to do his dirty works, who is not more suitable than the being of the same race numbed by the material plenty and flesh, power, all the decay. The tool created by man has made him the tool; e.g. money or other material whatsoever and to gain it he hurts someone intentionally or unintentionally maybe it is not his fault but the fault of the entire race that subjects so much cruelty unto every living to get what they want. 

Ah, and here is the conundrum, what is man a moment ago before the bang and after. That is the question, including the one who pulled the trigger what is the before and after? In the entire quest for meaning it is evident, we will never treasure what we have unless we have lost it, never to repossess that which we cannot get is the greatest thing we so desire. We are being of contradiction the maze runner that perceives reality just in a part, some of us are blind, some of us are deaf and with so much imperfection we bring a conclusion to our mind, the only winner is the one who leads us by the nose, the clown in the high chair. But the clown also is not free of desires for him to pull and push the strings he needs to understand and experience through it and so is the perfect clown the one who is beyond that which we are so mesmerized by; the basic survival and aspirations of impossibility in this life.