You get a call from me at work – I’m disturbingly cold as I inform you that I know what you have done…and there will be consequences…severe consequences for your actions, and then I simply hang up. You are left in a state of panic as you search your brain for a clue as to what I have discovered, taking an inventory of what wrongs you have perpetrated (it could be one of many you surmise). When you arrive home, you call out for me, but no voice answers back. You move from one room to the next, searching, but half wishing that you do not find me, afraid of what is to come.
Then you enter the bedroom, and you see what can only be the fore-mentioned consequences – confused you just stand there looking at what has been laid out for you. Your mind whirls as you piece together what is in store for you, what you are about to be subjected to. You know what will happen upon your refusal – you are well aware that I know where all the bodies are buried, know every skeleton, every deep dark secret that would leave your life in ruins if certain people would be informed of any one of them, or god forbid, they were to become public knowledge. And you also know I have no qualms about using such knowledge if I deem it prudent to my needs. You breathe in deeply, resigned to your fate.
I come up behind you and say matter-of-factly over your shoulder, “I told you there would be consequences…now disrobe.”