Mental Notes & Random Musings

The reverend closed the book and then in his own words said, “I’m rather impressed that I puzzled that one out before,” and then he waved Timmy along into what he had learned earlier.   “None of them seemed to know why he set the boat on fire, but he did. They mentioned that he tore the head off another one of the goons and threw it in the water. His back was to them all, so they didn’t see what I think you and I know happened,” he then sighed, “Several of them watched him scale a wall and just disappear.”  The reverend noted, “Well I think we already know that he lives and travels on top of the brownstones.”  “Yes, but I am pretty sure he must have run along the roof of my building in his travels, which was a bit unsettling, despite my fixation of the creature,” Timmy stumbled on the word creature as he always seems to do when trying to figure out how to identify Craven. “The newspaper appears to be wrong about one thing. Craven didn’t shred Mangione, his body was b...

“First responders are still battling the explosion that shook an upper Manhattan pier that was rarely used, but for some reason had a large barge that is still on fire,” was what was written under the headline of “Alleged Crime Family Devastated” was on the front page of the New York Daily News, sitting on Timmy’s desk. Somehow the reverend had beaten Timmy in this morning, and he figured that all the newsstands on the way from the Subway were too hard for him to walk past. As dramatic as everything the Manhattan vigilante has done so far this one was so over the top that it is blowing up, every bit as much as that Harlem River pier did.   The reverend decided it was time to text his protege and see what the holdup is. His larger than average thumbs beat out a rather simple message of, “Where are you?” and he hit the send. Now all he could do is wait and stare at the morning edition sitting on the desk, finding himself more entranced than ever with what is probably a ridiculou...

“I guess I don’t need to tell you how business is doing,” the older fellow sitting on the bench lazily stated as the younger of the two approached. He waved toward the spot on the bench next to him, “have a seat and we’ll talk about, well, whatever.” The second man set himself on the bench and sighed before throwing in his two bits, “I don’t know what to tell you, boss, we aren’t recruiting well these days ..” and the thought trailed off as the older of the two grabbed him by the back of the neck, “boss?” the man calmly said. After releasing the man, the older of the two stated, “What happened to the days when I demanded respect? How can you come to me week in and week out with this news that I do not want to hear ..” “I don’t see you out there unpacking a shipment in the dark,” and the very mention of the word “dark” carried onus that lay heavy in the air. “You’ve run out of henchmen my friend, and you aren’t the scariest thing in this city, don’t treat me like I’m stupid, ok?” The ol...

The headline simply read “God's Latest Victim and Witness” on the paper that is sitting on Timmy's desk.  He had read that before his morning duties and was a bit perplexed as to recklessness as of late with Craven. There also appears to be a greater sense of urgency on his behalf, as his usually staggered executions have become near daily for longer than it had ever been in the last decade. It is far less easy to understand the creature with the clues that have been left behind as well. The book sitting on the other side of the desk for example, the crucifix, and of course the witnesses. Despite his curiosity Timmy decided to lay low on this last witness, since her story in the paper was more attuned to seeing most of the shredding and not who was doing it. Curiosity of course brought Timmy back to that infernal diary. His curiosity was getting to him, but he had promised to read the book with the Reverend, and even in his most curios state he had to admit that it was for the ...

Timmy sat mulling over the first newspaper clipping he had ever saved about “The Shredder” the first week he was in New York City. The headline read “Prostitute Witnesses Bizarre Murder on Riverside” and he was amazed that all these years later he had just read the situation as it had been laid out by the murderer himself. Almost immediately when he had read the clipping, which at the time was a third page clip, he thought that it was odd. Of course, what he had really thought when he first read it was that the city of New York was a hopeless crap pile filled with stories like this one, but still he was immediately fascinated with it because of the way it was framed. “He was a monster,” she had started off her statement to the New York Post, which back then had been known more for its sensationalistic over drama, but like most curious young men Timmy was taken in by the term “Monster” after all. The article got very strange very quick from there, “He threw me forty feet with one hand, ...

“My love of God might have been the only true ally that I had in this newfound afterlife. I was completely entrenched in the idea that I had to find out how to kill the hideous beast that I had become and do that twice before more hideous beasts were created. That little fiend that I had created appeared to be curious of making a Vampire die, but not in the same way in which I had. Of course, I was living with the reality that I was as new to this as he was, albeit larger. I had not yet realized that my proportionate size added to my strength and the supernatural nature of my being was simply in the fact that I existed, and not that I had any real abilities that were not simply a manifestation of many unexplainable gifts. I could lift a car, but then again, a human my size just as easily could lift a car I would assume. Then there were the things that immortality made more possible, but not a complete given reality,” Timmy took a drink of water. “I had already deduced at this point in ...

After explaining the events that had gone on at the hospital to the Reverend, Timmy already had God’s journal opened on the desk and was contemplating whether to continue with it again. The Reverend had assured Timmy that he had no problem finishing the day’s tasks for just the opportunity. That dreaded book was looming hideous on the desk and practically speaking to Timmy, and for some ungodly reason he was trying to ignore it. His fascination with the creature known as God and his affection for the entity he knew as God was becoming a bit too close to his heart. Timmy was a failed Catholic at best, and it was the vindictive and borderline intolerant God that he had been encompassed by in the Catechism classes growing up that chased him to a separate religion to continue his fascination with God in general. Then there was this almost dirty fascination with another God that disturbed him more than anything.  He decided to just continue where he had left off the day before, “There w...

I finally noticed something on YouTube that has become a new addiction. I mean it has been there for quite a while now but somehow it evaded me until lately, and I am making up for lost time. Hot women playing heavy metal on the piano. This would have given me a profound need to learn the piano in my teens and may have led to a valuable skill going into my adult years had there actually been a world wide web and had I not grown-up poor. At least that is what I tell myself while I am perving on women half my age that are banging away at piano keys. To be fair, I did add most of these tunes to a playlist that I can listen to while I work out, where I can’t see the pretty women in the videos, so the music itself is that good and I am only half a pervert, because it does stand on its own without the eye candy. I happen to listen to classical music a lot mostly at work or on an odd workout day when I need something different. Classical music is just heavy metal before electricity if you thi...

On Audiobooks: Well, we may have summer coming, as I was able to get one of my long walks through town done yesterday. The hibernation period is over, and with that I am finally going to be able to knock off larger portions of the longest audiobook I have ever taken on. I passed the 40+ hour point of Winds of Change which means there is 22+ hours left. It is an enjoyable book, which has been trashed as WOKE by the hypersensitive among us that wants to see wokeness in everything. I hear you because there does appear to be wokeness in everything, but this book so far has not been it. The entire series has always been equal parts masculinity and femininity and men with feelings and women with strength from book one. I will admit I just passed the one part that the smarty farties point out as the earthquake of wokeness, and it made me laugh. Two effeminates who have been that way since the beginning fall in love. If that was not horrifying enough, they are different races. Oh, the humanity...

Timmy walked into the rectory twenty minutes late, which as we know makes him early. The New York Times was sitting on his desk, and it was not opened at all. The front page had the headline that was what he needed to see, and that was why the reverend left it that way. “The Wrath of God” was in large letters with a picture of a Chinatown building missing a large chunk of wall, about eight stories up. Inside that missing chunk of wall Timmy examined, with his handy magnifying glass that he keeps in his top drawer, a broken toilet with blood all over it. “Well, it seems our friend was a bit busy last night,” he said aloud to the reverend as he entered the room.  “Read the article, it appears that he is evolving,” the reverend said back to him, “he has taking on a more civic minded approach to vigilantism,” and he plunked himself into his chair with his usual morning bagel.  “Nobody saw a thing at this gruesome scene in Chinatown last night. The police who first arrived on the s...

For Whom the Bell Tolls. It is constantly stuck in my head at work, mostly because I am impressionable, but partially because there is a ringer that goes off for both ends of the line to communicate with each other. Now I came to this conclusion after days of whistling this song, not whistling this song, getting the song out of my head by any necessary measures, just to find it back in there again. I was leaving a meeting and walked past the line when I heard the bell and then started whistling again. I was so proud of figuring this out I was telling everyone about it and most of them reminded me of my looming senility. I of course work with someone named Jean, who anytime I start entering paperwork with her name on it in the system the song Billy Jean gets stuck in my head and more than once I have had someone walk into my office when I was making Michael Jackson sounds. Those are the looming senility by an obviously dirty old pervert moments, that forces me to use Smooth Criminal (Th...

Timmy looked away from the book in a bit of shock. The darker God is not the romanticized figurine on a pedestal that Timmy had placed him upon. What could he have expected after all? He was quite sure that the creature he had been following was a vampire and all, but his jaded view of what vampires do, was almost startling even to himself as he strayed away from the book. The reverend took the book back from him and started reading aloud, “I couldn’t even stand to look at the little monster as he dripped blood from his chin, and the sight of the young woman lying on the ground in a crumpled mass with a U shaped bite across the side of her throat was more disturbing. My actual hunger for blood disintegrated as I saw that body, and it flew in the face of what I would have expected reading the trashy vampire books as a kid. One would have assumed that seeing blood carnage would simply make me hunger all the more, and instead my stomach lurched,” the reverend stopped and looked at Timmy t...