Facadism Puns

I just had to have a Sioux veneer.

The moth drops down into the nearest chair and says “What’s the problem?”

Moth says “I don’t even know where to start. First of all, my boss is a vicious tyrant who gets off on the petty torments he puts me through day in and day out, and I’m too spineless to stand up to him, so I just take it and I’ve gradually come to hate myself for it. Also, every morning I wake up to the same prune-face old crone to whom I pledged my vows so many years ago. I used to love her, but that love has become like some sun-festering beached whale trying to die. We lost our daughter last year to one of the bitterest, coldest winters we’ve ever had to face in this region. Isn’t it funny, doc, how all the prayer circles and charity drives in the world amount to pretty much nothing in the face of that cold, impartial face of winter, that bleak, pounding, harsh fist of a callous environment, carrying on with its machinations without regard to our lives, loves, hopes and dreams? Isn’t that hysterical, Doc? Oh and then there’s my son. Doc, I don’t love him anymore. I don’t know what it is but I look in his eyes and I see that same harried look of gutless cowardice that I see when I stare at my own face in the mirror. If I wasn’t such a coward, Doc, I know I’d be able to scrape together enough pride to grab that cocked and loaded shotgun I keep by the bedside table, and just run amok and put an end to this grim facade once and for all. I start with the wife, then the boy of course before putting the barrell in my own mouth. Believe you me, Doc, I’d be doing the world a favor. I have nothing to look forward to but a continuation of this spiraling black hole that is my life, this existential cesspool that is the perpetuation of my lingering skid-mark on society. I despise people yet I crave their approval. I’m judgemental yet I care about nothing. I’m bitter, hateful and afraid. I’m alive yet I feel like the walking dead. This is it, Doc: I am a living, breathing, disease.”
The doctor stares at him for a while then finally says “Jeez, Moth, you definitely have some problems. But I’m a podiatrist. You need a psychiatrist. Why’d you come in here?”
The moth says,”Your light was on.”

I thought 'He knows how to make an entrance'.

But it turns out it was just a facade.

It looked like foul play. The mason wasn’t a suspect. He had a concrete alibi. The night of the accident he said he was with his girlfriend. She confirmed this. There was a wall of evidence. Consequently his alibi was rock solid and not just a facade. There was damning evidence that it was the plumber. They figured his alibi, that he was at the casino, wouldn’t hold water. But cameras showed fluid betting all night. This, obviously, threw a wrench in the investigation. The investigators followed a lead to the electrician. He had a shocking secret. It seems the electrician had been charged with battery only months earlier. But it was a dead end. They looked at the HVAC installer, but his alibi was airtight. Next, they tried to nail the Roofer, as he had been spouting off about the victim the day of the accident. But the roofer had been hammered all day. There was no way they could paint him as the cunning mastermind.

Then they saw the writing on the wall: the painter had both motive and opportunity. He was seen canvassing the accident site a few strokes before midnight when the accident occurred. The victim fell off a faulty ladder that was covered in finger paint. It seems the victim and the painter had a few brush-ins before. And it wasn’t a pretty picture. The painter was indicted, but despite all the evidence, the charges didn’t stick and the jury let him roll off clean.