Aristokratia

Okay, first of all, let me warn you against ever working for Gods. They could use you like a rag and then throw you away. They could blackmail you into fighting their battles, die a gory death, and then just forget you. They never notice if we perform sacrifices, but will come raining down on us if you don't. They force us to pray to them and they never acknowledge it. They... okay, why am I raving like this?
Who are you? On the other hand, what the heck had happened with my life? Suddenly, from a lousy person trying to put up with bimbos, I had become their most wanted article. Of course, I don't want it to sound like I'm the most wanted article of the bimbos, but it's partially true.
Look, if I could tell you what I am ranting about, I would get it all off my chest before you could say 'Crap,' but I can't, until you really want to, but I would still have to think about weighing my options: telling you and getting relief and then bursting into flames, or not telling you and feeling like a rag but not bursting into flames...
Fine, I think that I like the first option.
If you think you're different in any way, that strange things always happen around you, things that you couldn't explain; beware, you could be putting yourself in danger. Because once you know that you're different, they would know it too. So before I change my mind and choose self-preservation over your entertainment, let me begin.
If I burst into flames, it's your fault. I might come to haunt you in your dreams, but then, (and I'm trying to be modest) I'm a very forgiving person so don't worry.
So once again, I'm warning you...

With all the formalities, let me begin.