A Stormy Night Out On The Avenue

Diary entry: The murderer that Paulie the investigator was stalking was an engineer, a crime engineer, and Paulie was the log pile on the railroad track that would derail this fiend, yes, Panda Express, midweek, a beast is on the loose, a raging beast, bent on devouring, consuming innocent life, Paulie is the hunter, yes, Paulie is the one to bring this murdering beast down, Paulie will stalk, Paulie will devour the devourer, destroy the destroyer, stay close by the “Diary” readers, stay close by Paulie, this is the only safe place to be during these times, these stories are true, these are not simply the rantings of an old, has-been, elegant dinner party host, who now drinks vodka from empty noodle soup cans, no, this is real, all real, it happened to me, it is happening to me and you can be sure, it will happen to you, yes, we are all within our own mystery and it is up to each of us to figure our way out, please allow Paulie to say “carry on”, yes, persevere the best you can, walk on, never falter, keep your eyes on the trail ahead, the wilderness is dark and deep, but you have Paulie to guide you… Diary entry: A bright flash, a loud sharp crack, the house shook, thunder rolled, the rain hit the roof, dancing on it like break dancing Sumo wrestlers, Flamenco dancing Sumo wrestlers, drunk on Saki and the sound of castanets, the night was erupting, erupting into an ugly stench, the stench was murder, wet cold murder, murder on a wet cold night, murder most foul, the entire night smelt like foulness, the foulness of wet cold murder… Diary entry: I think Paulie needs to move, his house is too small, he feels as if he is living in a mummy case, this house is closing in on Paulie, Paulie doesn’t want to be a mummy, this house is a mummy case… Diary entry: This house is too big, too ominous, too many stories, too many rooms, too many basements, crawl spaces, tunnels, passageways, it is too much for Paulie, Paulie can no longer oversee this great, dark, desolate house, no, this dreary dank monster is too much for Paulie, ever since the two widow lady boarders left, it has become like gloom in a bucket… Diary entry: The raindrops were the size of saucers, they hit the house like baseball bats, the wind howled like mountain lions during the yearly elk migrations, the flashing continued nonstop, the sound of the storm was deafening, as if the very earth itself was screaming, screaming in that low gutteral voice that makes every hair stand up in a frigid posture of fear, it was like being inside a mummy case with Saki drunken sumo wrestlers doing some kind of Irish square dance on the lid, yes, this night could be the very night in which some awful thing might bust loose, we will see readers, we will see… Diary entry: Paulie is isolated out here in this big house, there is no communication possible as the trunk line is out, the trunk line is down, Paulie is cut off, cut off from civilization, this is the kind of situation in which a man either lives or he dies… Diary entry: The Mamba Samba, the snake dance, yes, the deadly mamba would dance this night, dance in ways never before seen, we were in the darkest part of a most forsaken jungle, we were here on business but the business we encountered led us to the most terrifying episode of my life…


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