Paulie’s Real Stories In Real Time

Diary entry: Welcome to “Paulie Gee’s Realtime Diary”, Paulie is in the middle of writing a novel, he got the idea from old black and white movies on TV, he’s entitling this first story “Murder At The Panda Express”, there is no plot worked out yet, there is just the title, but I’ll grow something around it I’m sure… maybe diners sending back egg roll, unsatisfied, and an Oriental chushi chef, fed up with American pomposity, determined to settle some long ago dispute, a family matter, defend family honor no matter what he has to do, I don’t know, or a young busboy with an opium addiction, seeking more control over his forlorn life and murder was the only way, a lot of bugs to work out, but what Oriental restaurant doesn’t? Diary entry: Paulie here, hanging out at “Panda Express” to get a feel for my new novel, “Murder At The Panda Express”, I must say, the vibes here are overwhelming, there is a murderous kitchen atmosphere, rusty cleavers, sharp-bladed knives, switchblades most likely, harsh looks on the faces of dark haired men, handling their instruments of instant death, eyes that seem to glow through the dimly lit, steamy room, one look, one out of place word, there would be a new menu item, a special, and the special at Panda Express would be revenge, yes, revenge served up Sukiyaki style my friend, Sukiyaki with the works, then a woman appeared through the door, her umbrella dripping, she was dark haired, tall, her eyes were Chinese lanterns, her dress waved like the sea, I found myself adrift, I forgot about why I was here, I forgot where I was, I forgot who I was, she was a typhoon and I couldn’t move away, I knew there could be no calm lagoon to run to for safety, there could be no escape from this woman… Diary entry: Paulie consulted a professional book publisher about the prospects of getting “Paulie Gee’s Realtime Diary” into print, and he is taking the advice given, Paulie was told to “go put that crap on the internet”, so, look forward to a lot of “Diary” entries, we are here for you, the people, we have heard your cries, and we are responding to your need for good wholesome stories, stories you can tell your friends, stories you can tell your enemies, or stories you can simply forget, we don’t care… Diary entry: Paulie is about to write a new parallel murder mystery entitled “Mama San Murder Mystery”, about a harsh woman, a harsh life, an innocent young man, during the height of monsoon season, torrents of wet passion and pain, anguish really, the kind of anguish that burrows itself into you, burns itself deep within, leaving thick scar tissue where flesh used to be, yes, this is real life, real passion, real pain, real pleasure, but it all becomes blurred, melded into some sick need for love, any love, until you find yourself deep into some foreign jungle that has no outlet, and the sun has gone away, no light, no direction, no hope… Diary entry: Paulie here with some advise to anyone out there intending to fake their death, let my experience perhaps help you, when your loved ones discover that you are really still alive, they seem to be just as angry with you as before you faked your death, I’ll never fake my death again, it probably wouldn’t work twice anyway… Diary entry: The faked death thing, where I went wrong was getting my brother to help fake my death, he told the family that he was really a CIA hit man contracted to get rid of me, my brother broke down under questioning, my brother won’t talk to me anymore because the family hates him too now, I think the best advice I can give is, don’t complicate your life, stay simple, stay down, stay cool… Diary entry: “Murder at the Panda Express”, day two, I was bent over my rice when the hostess madam hurried over to greet a well dressed man who had just entered, he wore some type of top hat, carrying a cane with a silver dragon head on it, his eyes were like two black onyx buttons yet to be pushed through the buttonholes, he had a thin black mustache and a mouth full of pearls that dripped light, the room turned cold, I sipped my rice wine as the hostess showed him to a corner booth, his usual seat no doubt, probably reserved at all times, what madness dwelt beneath this place, the average person could only imagine, but I was gonna find out…

Advertisement

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s