Diary entry: Now when Fernando died, I died, I didn’t die as much as Fernando died, as he died a lot, I only died a little, I only kinda died, he really died, it’s not easy to explain, let’s just leave it at that… Diary entry: Do you pet owners not realize that the food you buy for your little guy or gal consists of other people’s dead pets, you are feeding your best friend other people’s dead best friends man, just so you know… What the hell do you think is done with hundreds of thousands of tons of dead animals anyway, you think they take them to some mountain top somewhere and sing a stupid song during a goddamned religious ceremony for Christ’s sake, the whole pet food industry is dependent on dead pets, you didn’t think they were out there raising sheep and cattle for a dumb ass cat did you, that sweet dog of yours has the souls of enumerable animals living within it, if you ever believed the family dog had many personalities, you now know why, there are spirits of strange dead pets living in your house, Paulie says “Get your pet off commercial feed”, buy our “Paulie Gee’s Realtime Diary” special, pure, organic pet food blends, our blends are so pure you can pour yourself a bowl and enjoy right along with Fido, we have a guarantee, if you are not satisfied, go to hell…

Diary entry: There is a crime epidemic surrounding this seemingly innocent neat as a pin Oriental restaurant that is tucked away among other seemingly innocent establishments, yes, there is a crime epidemic, but fortunately for the common rabble of inhabitants of this city, Paulie the investigator is the epidemiologist, yes, the epidemiologist that will locate, subdue, and transport a most heinous fiend back to the laboratory where he will be dealt with, as an epidemiologist deals with small germs, this destructive bacterium of a murderer will meet his end, at the end of Paulie’s vengeance, a warning goes out this night to whomever the murderer is, Paulie is out here in the night, Paulie is the great owl with laser eyes and large talons that span the whole county, Paulie the owl is famished and he is ready to devour the first murderous rat that scurries in the darkness… Diary entry: Paulie is just so sick of people asking what mental asylum he is from, first of all, it wasn’t an insane asylum, it was a “quiet therapy” school where Paulie was taught to be quiet, and anyway, it was long ago, back in the seventies, let’s all forget the past and our past mistakes and look to the future, okay… Diary entry: Paulie was a garbage collector at one time, the days were long and tiring, after long hours of emptying garbage containers, the whole staff would meet to unwind over at the “Can Can” room, yeah, the evenings were cool down at the “Can Can” Bar and Grill, I’ll never forget it, I’m cool just thinking about it… Diary entry: Are you having problems at work, do you hate everyone around you, does everyone hate you, are you downtrodden, forlorn, ready to just give it all up, well, before you do, read me, Paulie, read “Paulie Gee’s Realtime Diary”, I guarantee you will be affected in a deep down profound way, you may begin acting differently, speaking differently, you might lose that stupid puppet haircut, c’mon, get rid of those raggedy shirts you’ve been wearing, lose those baggy trousers with the one brown polka dot on the rear, give Paulie a chance to form you into something you might one day be proud of… Diary entry: We here at the “Diary” have hired on a new employee to sweep the floors and do odd jobs, he is a bit impetuous but eager, he says that sweeping the floor is broom work that should be left to the witches, he says women should sweep, men should write, he is quite outspoken but he has a good heart, he reminds Paulie of when he was young and his simple thoughts and words were many times misinterpreted by ladies who could swing a purse like Tony Kubek swung a bat in in the 1962 World Series…

Diary entry: Paulie had a somewhat humorous entry to make this evening but there is something on Paulie’s mind that he wishes to relate to anyone out there who can remove the stupid lollipop from their mouth for one second and sit up straight and listen to reality when it knocks on your door, Paulie says “Get up off your worthless lazy ass and answer the door”, the Reality Man is not a steel roof salesman, the Reality Man is giving reality away for free, just open up the door to your brain long enough to let some of it in, do not make Paulie raise his voice or scream because if he does, you will not like it, no, you are not going to like Paulie’s soft words, you certainly don’t want his hard ones because Paulie has words you have never heard and he will unleash them on you… Diary entry: This is Paulie your teacher, your teacher is giving you one last chance to get aboard the reality train, you are getting a time out, your last time out, to reflect on what you have been told, take thirty minutes to decide whether you will choose your teacher’s offering or your own dysfunctional imaginations, Paulie is headed to the teacher’s lounge for a smoke and a thermos of martinis, you better be straight when your teacher returns or you will have hell’s bill to pay, this is Paulie, down here in the teacher’s lounge, saying to any who will listen, “Carry on, do well, keep your fire blazing, as we are gonna burn this world down”, shalom, shalom…

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…

It was late fall, we were on the 1:00 AM train to Anytown, any town the train was going to, we boarded the train at the curve over the river where it had to slow down, when one of the boys back then said they had to catch a train, they really meant it, anyway, like fleas trying to catch a ride on a charging elk, we caught our sweet ride in thick fog that loomed over the night like our juvenile records loomed over our chances of ever getting a decent job, I don’t know if it was Benny’s mother’s Halleluyah Honeydew wine, Sancho’s cigarettes, or the clack, clack, clack of the iron wheels on the softly meandering snake-like steel trail through a country we had grown up in but hardly knew, anyway, we were all feeling mellow, we were mellow like marshmallows floating in Grandma’s hot cocoa on the coldest day of winter, hang on a minute, someone is at the door… Why is it that the neighborhood ladies all come to Paulie with their problems, if Paulie could solve problems he would solve his own, Paulie cannot offer solutions, Paulie can only offer himself… Diary entry: Plans, every murderer has plans, plans he must keep hidden, and the plans of this murderer must be hidden somewhere within this Panda Express, yes, something is buried here, something evil and destructive, Paulie will dig this thing up, this rotten thing that has been buried here, for whatever is buried, Paulie’s shovel will uncover, don’t venture far from “Paulie Gee’s Realtime Diary” as things are about to boil over, Paulie’s burner is on high and he is about to cook a murderer… Diary entry: The sun had long since passed through it’s western gate, the night was darker than usual, darker and more dangerous, Paulie was relying on one thing, that a dark and dangerous night might bring forth and reveal a dark and dangerous murderer, yes, this would be the night, it had to be… Late evening, Panda Express, steam escaped when the kitchen door swung open, a very pretty, dark haired Oriental lady emerged from the cloud carrying a platter, I figured it was a platter of death about to be served up hot on a squealing rat who couldn’t be trusted, who had to be silenced, this would only complicate Paulie’s murder investigation, Paulie ordered Saki and tried to numb his senses as this whole thing is taking it’s toll, Paulie is a fighter, but even the best and hardiest fighter, when having taken too many punches, will eventually be laid out flat on his face, Paulie’s face is no stranger to the floor… Yeah, the duck on the platter was dead, just like this rat was gonna be… Diary entry: This “under hydrated” thing, they say “keep hydrated”, Paulie thinks he may have over hydrated, Paulie will return to the “Diary” at a later date… Diary entry: Paulie woke up this morning with his face stuck to the bathroom floor, this doesn’t mean it’s going to be a bad day or a good day, no, Paulie greets every day the same… Diary entry: Ooohh, unngh, Paulie just woke up in the back seat of his vehicle at an abandoned industrial park outside the city, somebody broke Paulie’s chop sticks as he was leaving Panda Express last night… Diary entry: The fantasy world we live in is a beautiful woman, a waving sea of pleasure, but the real world we live in is an ugly witch, dry like the desert, this is a new feature here at the “Diary”, witty sayings Paulie has heard over the years from friends, wise old sages, and the guy who hangs out by the dumpster behind the liquor store…

Diary entry: Okay, it’s late, just got home from a spiritualist meeting, yeah, there was this lady who performed as a medium, a bridge if you will, between the living and the dead, and she dealt out tarot cards to all of us in the circle, now she may be able to talk to the dead but her interpretation of the tarot cards was all wrong, way off, her interpretations were straight out of the paperback book that comes with the deck of cards, anyone with the least bit of psychic awareness knows that the little book they put in with the cards is only intended for the dumbed down masses, it is basically bullshit, to wit, she dealt me the red blood queen card and said it was the queen of hell who was about to visit me, I knew she was a fake because in true occult circles the red blood queen card is known as the bitch card and she has already visited me, so well, I don’t know, the lady was at the very least, half fake, but she did wear some very cool clothes, yeah, she did look awesome… Diary entry: My dog Smudge really hates me, we aren’t getting along since the vet did his last colonoscopy, Smudge has been crapping in my shoe for the past two weeks, it wouldn’t be so bad but he is on a restricted diet, no dry dog food, only the wet stuff, anyway, the only time Smudge hops up on my lap is when he has to fart, then he jumps right back down, the vet says all I can do is love him, but geez, it is so difficult, especially with the problems the other two animals have, well, I guess we persevere the best we can, Paulie says to all, carry on, keep the hood ornament pointed straight forward, careful on the gas pedal, and pray to that little plastic woman figurine that is still on the dashboard of your dead Grandma’s automobile you fuckin’ loser you, stop driving your poor dead Grandma’s car and get a goddamned job for Christ’s sake, well, this is Paulie shouting loud to anyone with ears to hear, “Wake up you fucking retard”, shalom…

Diary entry: Paulie was ejected from one of his usual hangouts this evening, he was explaining the true meaning of the term “buttonholer” to a couple of ladies at the bar, the management asked Paulie to leave so he is drinking at home, Paulie only wants to educate, people have no idea what the “button business” really is… Diary entry: Oh where, oh where, oh why, oh why, oh how, oh how, did it all go wrong, oh where, oh why, oh how did it all go so terribly wrong, these are questions for the ages, questions that quite possibly will go unanswered, but Paulie still asks… Diary entry: You can do what you want, but Paulie will never accept a drink or a cigarette from a stranger again… Emergency late night “Diary” entry: If Paulie’s “Diary” entries have been sounding foreign, odd, or uncharacteristic lately, it is because of this vexing “Murder at the Panda Express” murder investigation, when one’s mind and soul becomes entangled in a vortex of the magnitude that this thing is, then I can only say “Stand back”, “Get back out of the way”, as things are about to explode, and I mean explode, like a rice cooker on a bonfire, Paulie’s fire will rain down on this murderer and Paulie’s fire hose will flush his ashes off the streets of a once again fair city… Diary entry: I was outside of Skagway, I think it was 1960 or ’61, it had been an exceptionally harsh winter, I had no money left, the beavers were froze in, lakes, ponds, rivers, all ice covered, the icicles had icicles, the snow flakes had snow flakes, and I had problems, my problems had problems… Diary entry: I had been in the pantry room fixing myself a pickle juice margarita, pickle juice, tequila, and a bit of salt on the rim of the pickle jar, I retired into my library to enjoy a drink, a smoke, and some reading when I heard the scream of a woman coming from an upstairs room, I didn’t stir, as I had instantly deduced the scenario, it was an unusually harsh woman, her age about the same as mine, she had been upset for some time, yes, it was obvious to a trained thinker that the screaming woman was indeed my wife, still upset over my behavior at last weekends open supper… Diary entry: Panda Express, late night, early evening, it doesn’t matter, there was something in the stale night air, I smelled it before I ever arrived at this seemingly darker, more dangerous Panda Express, darker and more dangerous than ever, and something stunk, yeah, something stunk bad, it stunk like murder, it doesn’t take a bloodhound to smell this stink, it was all around and I was gonna root it out this night, once and for all, I would dig up this long ago buried kimchi pot of stink even if it blew the lid off this whole stinkin’ town…

Diary entry: We were travelling the Pecos wilderness, we got split up in a high wind storm, our horses had bolted, after three days I found one of the horses, but he had taken lame after only a few miles, I had tried to find the other members of our party to no avail, well, when a horse takes lame, he has to be shot but I didn’t have the heart to do it, as I knelt beside Old Flowie, a dirty old hermit-looking guy approached on a mule, it was my lucky day, he said he would shoot my beloved Old Flowie for me if he could have the meat, we struck up a deal and this is where the story gets weird, I had actually worked with this guy back in the seventies, it was hard times, it was during the big Christmas layoffs and we were drowning our misfortunes where we usually went, the High Point Bar and Grill, out in Farmington, well, a lot of recently laid off men drank there, and one night, some guy brought his dog in and he was drinking with it near the end of the bar, well, a fight broke out, a real melee, tables were being overturned, lamps were being broken, anyway, this bronze bust of some guy, Lord Calvert, Mr. Kessler, I always thought it was that kid in the Bazooka Bubble Gum comics, anyway, it got knocked off the wall and it fell on this guy’s dog and injured him beyond repair, we all knew the dog had to be put out of it’s misery, but no one could do anything about it, that’s when this same guy came in and said he’d do it if he could keep the meat… Diary entry: Well, its’s turned out to be the kind of day today when you wish you had cut your arteries out before you went to bed last night, please allow Paulie to explain, hang on a second, I hear the Hound of Deerfield Avenue howling outside, Mrs. Moore’s voice carries throughout the whole neighborhood, the Moore’s live down the street, Paulie avoids the Moore’s, especially after dark… Diary entry: Paulie gets so tired of the same old complaints from the neighbors, empty beer cans in their yard, cat crap in their mailboxes, golf balls in their gutters, can’t we all just try and get along, well, Paulie is the peacemaker but it seems no one wants true peace, well, this is Paulie, signing off and saying to those he loves, peace, love, and rest to you, and shalom, the rest of you, go to hell… Diary entry: Now Tombstone, Arizona Territory, was full of gunfighters and they had a place where they buried the men who ran into other men who shot them because they all spent too much time in the saloon, Boot Hill, well, there was a town next door that was run by women who didn’t get along any better, they had a place where they buried the dead losers too, it was called House Slipper Hill, yes, this is the story of a place called Broomstone, Arizona Territory, I was there, and this is my story…

Diary entry: Much controversy has been swirling over whether all the giants and animals indeed turned to stone during the years following the Great Flood, please allow Paulie to produce evidence that points to the fact that all the creatures of the earth did factually turn to stone, Paulie was digging around up in the attic and he found an old Easter basket from 1991, the peeps were like rocks and they were only 28 years old, the fossils are much older than that, Paulie only asks that you do the math, c’mon people, does Paulie still have to spell everything out for you, please study your workbooks, listen to Paulie, know Paulie, know his ways, his ways are the ways he wants for you, ride along in Paulie’s reality sedan, the hood ornament is pointed straight down the road, the speedometer is buzzing, we won’t turn back, we are heading into a reality storm, and you are about to be swept away, far away… Diary entry: Jellybean, Jellybean Johnson, we all loved Jellybean, Jellybean swore, yeah, Jellybean swore all the time, he swore at everybody, he swore at the milkman, he swore at the ice cream man, he even swore at the religious guy who hung out in front of the drugstore who handed out directions to his house, but anyway, this entry is not about my old friend Jellybean, no, this is about Paulie’s intention to buy a wrecked bus, yeah, a wrecked bus, Paulie is thinking of buying a wrecked bus, turn it into sort of a man’s get away pad, you know, set it up, make it inviting, dimly lit, hypnotic, there’s the burnt smell but incense can take care of that, the low voltage lighting glancing off smoked glass, glittering in the night, cool evening air, the moon, I better see if I can get the wrecked bus before I get into this any further, Paulie will keep all posted… Diary entry: Was it 1922 Singapore, 1930’s Shanghai, 1952 and the Fire City of Dung Chow, no, it was 2019, it was Panda Express, seemingly clean and pristine on the outside, but there was something underneath this place that perhaps shouldn’t be disturbed, not dug up, a long ago buried cabbage pot full of corruption that could blow the lid off this whole stinking town… Diary entry: I felt as if all the air had somehow been sucked out of Panda Express, I would ask for a doggy bag, I mean a to-go container, I won’t ask for a doggy bag again at an Oriental restaurant, anyway, as a tall, dark haired, pretty Oriental lady delicately transferred my uneaten rice and noodles into a white styrofoam box, she bent over and softly whispered in my ear, “The man in the corner booth wishes to speak with you”, my won tons froze up, my won tons froze to the booth, I couldn’t move… Diary entry: The bartender at Paulie’s house is pretty worthless, tonight’s margaritas are pickle juice and tequila, extra salt on the rim of the pickle jar, this morning’s Bloody Mary was garnished with a potato, I don’t know how long I can go on like this, I need something new, a new day, a new way, a new life, but my back hurts, so I’m just gonna sit here… Diary entry: Listen to me world, freeze dried ice cream is bullshit, they peddled me that crap in 1960 and I’m still pissed…

Diary entry: Please allow Paulie to apologize to whomever apologies are due, Paulie has been thinking, when Paulie looks around he sees ugliness and horror, but is Paulie seeing some kind of reflection, a reflection of his life, is Paulie seeing his own reflection and he is blaming it on someone else, Paulie may never know, but as Paulie watches the night sky, he wonders, is it the world, or is it me… Diary entry: Excuse me, I just spilled my “Skunk In The Hole”, a little concoction I created from what is left in the root cellar and liquor cabinet, it hasn’t yet become a hit with the ladies but who knows, anyway, the reason for this latest “Diary” entry is this, hold on, someone is at the door… Okay, dig this, Paulie has been receiving bids from contractors, yeah, Paulie is having a moat dug around his house, it’s to keep sales people away, here’s how it will work, when the sales person from the “Mr. Dumbass Sales Corporation” rings the door bell, the plank walkway opens up and the guy drops into the moat, it’s ingenious, don’t worry, the water isn’t gonna be that deep, maybe thirty feet… Diary entry: Okay, where were we, oh yeah, a wise old one armed fisherman once told a young Paulie, never put all your worms on the hook, you might lure in something big that wants to eat you, anyway, Paulie feels like the only minnow in the Sea World Ocean Predator aquarium tank on Labor Day weekend, Paulie doesn’t get a moment’s rest, well, Paulie is about to duck into the Coral Lounge for a smoke and a drink, hide out from the world a while, so, to all the small minnows out there, keep your fins flipping, keep your nose pointed straight ahead, and keep the faith, we are all together in this thing, shalom… Diary entry: The second week in possibly the last September we will enjoy, I remember Colton, Colton wasn’t his real name, we called him that because he had found an old rusted Colt derringer while we were digging in the ground behind the old brewery, Colton cleaned up his find and he stole some bullets from Shankman’s auntie, who was certified as some thing or another, anyway, Colton became the referee, umpire, official, of every ball game, hockey game, every croquet match, anything that took a judge, whenever there was an argument, Colton stepped up and made his decision, he would pull his Colt derringer out of his pocket, fire it into the air, and give his decision, yeah, I guess back in those days, Colton prevented trouble, trouble that seemed to hover over us like the very air we breathed… Diary entry: May Paulie say that he is pleased with some of the responses he has received from readers, not many, but a few, most of you still hate Paulie, but oh well, anyway, where were we, Paulie’s train of thought just jack knifed in the middle of the tunnel, it may be lost, yeah, that thought bit the dust like a fat man bites into the plate of hot dogs at the carnival eating contest and the prize is a year’s supply of pork chops, well, Paulie needs to retreat into the root cellar, the liquor cabinet, and then the den, for a smoke and a drink, to collect his thoughts, trust this my friends, Paulie will return with a vengeance you have never known, don’t go far, Paulie’s anger will burn if he has to chase you down, shalom…