The case against The Good Reverend

[Pæs]

EXHIBIT D: Personal testimony of [name redacted due to safety concerns]; a neighbour.

Dear sir,

I write with further information regarding Mr [redacted] also known as "The Good Reverend" to provide yourself and your associates with information which may be of use in the investigation into his affairs which I believe you are undertaking.

HE IS A RESPONSIBLE FAMILY MAN.

I do not know why I wrote that and somehow cannot bring myself to erase it. Please disregard and consider it symptomatic of the psychological effect that living near the man, if he is merely a man, has had on me and my family. I must apologise for the incompleteness of my testimony. Detailed logs of his activities were taken but I recently discovered them missing from the drawer in my upstairs study, replaced with a hand-bound notebook full of the most unsettling images and short stories. This testimony will be written in small parts, so great is the trauma of some of these memories.

I suspect but cannot prove that [The Good Reverend] is behind my missing logs. It would not be the first time that the walls of my home have been proven insufficient to keep him away. June last year I discovered the man in my pantry, wearing a fur coat and drinking from a bottle of cooking oil. He insisted that he had to "fuel myself up if I'm going to reach escape speed and then, oh, then it's time for orbital bombardment." It was evident that he had been in there for some time, though I cannot understand how as I had been home all day and made frequent use of the area, but receipts for no less than 17 takeaway orders to a local Indian restaurant were lining the floor. Upon later inspection, I discovered that these meals had been delivered to my house, though there was no additional evidence of them.

I shut the door on him and ran to phone for help but on the arrival of the police, the cupboard was found empty. Totally empty. There was no evidence that he had ever been there, nor that it had ever held any food. Also, my kitchen taps had been removed. (I would, of course, later discover that these were being used to represent nipples on a sculpture he referred to as a "prototype companion" which he "accidentally catapulted at your house because the spring was wound too tightly, settle down, you'd think you'd welcome the company... ungrateful...".)

END OF RECORD.

[Pæs]

EXHIBIT K: Personal testimony of [name redacted by court order]; former pizza delivery person.

The guy at [address redacted] never orders pizza but his mailbox always has the number of the house I'm looking for on it. I have learned not to approach this building and, in fact, new employees are taught to avoid it now.

The first time this happened I approached the door, I rang the doorbell and waited. Static announced a presence on the intercom and I given the instruction "agaaaaain." I rang the doorbell once more and the door fell inwards, unhinged.

I called into the house, asking whether anyone was home and explaining that I had brought the pizza that had been ordered. The intercom buzzed once more "what's on it?" I told him it was Hawaiian. "Have you checked?" I hadn't, so I did. The box was filled with pages and pages of scratchy handwriting, which I would later describe to my boss as "an erotic novel featuring a Sasquatch and pizza".

My boss assumed the text was mine. He fired me, but stayed in contact, calling me at night to ask that I produce further such works for him.

[Pæs]

EXHIBIT F: A disc containing the full "sexting" history between [The Good Reverend] and Eugene Levy and a detailed account of the camera tricks used by the former to entice the latter into continuing the exchange.

[Cainad (dec.)]

 

[Remington]

Exhibit G: Rubber gloves, a barometer, 5 feet of rubber hose, and a CD that appears to contain George W. Bush's confession of how he actually got elected.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

I think Paes got a case of the Holies. 

[Pæs]

I think Paes got a case of the Holies. 

This shit needs to be documented for future generations. We couldn't order bulk welding gloves in anyone's size but mine (they disintegrate fairly quickly) so it's down to me to handle and catalogue it.

[Don Coyote]

I think Paes got a case of the Holies. 

This shit needs to be documented for future generations. We couldn't order bulk welding gloves in anyone's size but mine (they disintegrate fairly quickly) so it's down to me to handle and catalogue it.

This is why I enrolled in the "Very dangerous and possibly cancerous program to graft cybernetic asbestos coated limbs"

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

EXHIBIT K: Personal testimony of [name redacted by court order]; former pizza delivery person.

The guy at [address redacted] never orders pizza but his mailbox always has the number of the house I'm looking for on it. I have learned not to approach this building and, in fact, new employees are taught to avoid it now.

The first time this happened I approached the door, I rang the doorbell and waited. Static announced a presence on the intercom and I given the instruction "agaaaaain." I rang the doorbell once more and the door fell inwards, unhinged.

I called into the house, asking whether anyone was home and explaining that I had brought the pizza that had been ordered. The intercom buzzed once more "what's on it?" I told him it was Hawaiian. "Have you checked?" I hadn't, so I did. The box was filled with pages and pages of scratchy handwriting, which I would later describe to my boss as "an erotic novel featuring a Sasquatch and pizza".

My boss assumed the text was mine. He fired me, but stayed in contact, calling me at night to ask that I produce further such works for him.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I think Paes got a case of the Holies. 

Yes, yes he has.   

[Anna Mae Bollocks]

I love getting online and finding shit like this almost before anything else. 

[Pæs]

EXHIBIT E: Personal testimony of [name redacted due to safety concerns]; a neighbour. (cont.)

Mr. [redacted] has done his level best to drive my wits from me since I moved to this neighbourhood some [redacted] years ago.

He has constructed metal men to terrorise my days and haunt my nights. He has sent his coin-operated assistants in a war of attrition against my bank account; only a well-placed coin will disable the dreadful things.

He dreams up nightmarish variations on these metal men and sometimes, when they have my attentions full occupied, he scurries out from his house and cheers them on with a single "hoo, hoo, hoorah!" before disappearing back into the night.

He makes men from thick sacks, with watering cans for heads and stolen taps on their chests and he fills them with BEES. I say again, he fills them with ANGRY BEES... how he manages this I do not know. These monstrosities lurch about my yard as if performing a rain dance, driven by the movement within, humming menacingly and leaking honey from their chests.

When I call the police, they giggle at me and insist on "mistakenly" calling me by rude and childish variations on my name. Sometimes I am sure that their voices are his. I do not feel there is anyone I can call to my aid.

Somehow the man has been at my plumbing. All of the drains are clogged, intentionally, as it was entirely unpredictable which holes would take water/waste and which would deliver it.

I have only willingly approached his house once, before I knew what it was to reason with him. Everything I said, he repeated milliseconds after or before me, the result of which was extremely disorienting. He then asked me to apologise for disturbing him and I did. He said to me "I'm glad that's settled. I'll see you at dinner tomorrow night." and I told him "It'll be great to have you." convinced that plans had been made much further in advance to this. I turned to leave, paused, and thought to turn back to Mr. [redacted] to clarify... only to find that I was no longer on his doorstep but that of another neighbour, Mrs. [redacted] who pushed me away with a mop and told me I'd been gibbering at her long enough and "if I ever catch you doing that to my mail slot again I'll slide it closed on you."

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

  This is brilliant. Absolutely remarkable.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

CAN'T...STOP...LAUGHING...

[Pæs]

EXHIBIT C: Blueprints for what different reviewers have described as "fundamentally, a soldering iron", "some kind of phallic attachment for another device, referred to in these schematics as 'THE INCREDIBLE HUNK',  "presumably a novel way to make toast, judging by the scrawled notes in the margins which appear to be complaints about the narrow slots and danger within."

The referenced device has not yet been recovered.