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.
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.
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.
:lulz:
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.
I think Paes got a case of the Holies. :lulz:
Quote from: hølist on December 18, 2012, 06:14:58 AM
I think Paes got a case of the Holies. :lulz:
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.
Quote from: Pæs on December 18, 2012, 06:46:41 AM
Quote from: hølist on December 18, 2012, 06:14:58 AM
I think Paes got a case of the Holies. :lulz:
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"
Quote from: Pæs on December 18, 2012, 05:14:10 AM
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.
:lulz: :horrormirth: :lulz: :horrormirth:
Quote from: hølist on December 18, 2012, 06:14:58 AM
I think Paes got a case of the Holies. :lulz:
Yes, yes he has. :lulz:
I love getting online and finding shit like this almost before anything else. :lulz:
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."
:lulz: This is brilliant. Absolutely remarkable.
CAN'T...STOP...LAUGHING...
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.
Bump.
I missed this the first time around. this is glorious. :lulz:
Today's to-do list:
1. Broker the sale of the rights to The Diary of Anne Frank to Disney.
2. Rip out the last page of Moby Dick from all copies at the library.
3. Fake a fit at the movie theater during the climactic scene.
4. Ask a WWII vet "whatcha done recently?"
5. Buy milk.
Quote from: Dirty Old Uncle Roger on October 18, 2013, 03:56:50 PM
1. Broker the sale of the rights to The Diary of Anne Frank to Disney.
The Gestapo would have their own song, see. They'd sing about "Where is she, where is she?" while they rip up the floorboards.
Anne would have a talking mouse as a friend in her cubby hole. The talking mouse, though, sneezes and gives away her hiding spot, then leads a madcap caste of characters to rescue her before she "goes up the stack".
Oh, that's just wrong.
:lulz:
Also, tell me that's not EXACTLY what Disney would do.
Yeah. And she wouldn't be Jewish, either.
Quote from: LMNO, PhD (life continues) on October 18, 2013, 04:31:31 PM
Yeah. And she wouldn't be Jewish, either.
No, she would be Jewish. Just with WASP features. See
Pocahontas or
Ali Baba. All the women always look like white teenage mall girls, with shaded skin. All the men look like apes, except for the hero, who is either an SS recruiting poster boy, or a slim white boy with shaded skin.
She would probably open the movie with a song about "Why do they hate me because of my dreidle?"
Can we give the mouse a song too, along the lines of "Yarmulke, Shmarmulke"?
It could start with the pogrom reaching Disneytown. Old Gepetto gets dragged off, the evil stepmother has to sew a Star of David on her dress, the 7 dwarves get liquidated, and Prince Charming is in a snappy black uniform, having seen the recruiting posters and the alternative.
The hunchback, well, less said the better.
Quote from: LMNO, PhD (life continues) on October 18, 2013, 04:37:39 PM
Can we give the mouse a song too, along the lines of "Yarmulke, Shmarmulke"?
Now you're talking.
Towards the end, the camp inmates could do a dance number. Maybe to
Shake These Bones by Malcolm Dalglish.
We're forgetting something Disney, dude. Can't put my finger on it.
Anne has a sassy, hands-on-hips speech in the SS officer's face about girl power, before being rescued by a dude?
Quote from: Dirty Old Uncle Roger on October 18, 2013, 03:56:50 PM
Today's to-do list:
1. Broker the sale of the rights to The Diary of Anne Frank to Disney.
2. Rip out the last page of Moby Dick from all copies at the library.
3. Fake a fit at the movie theater during the climactic scene.
4. Ask a WWII vet "whatcha done recently?"
5. Buy milk.
:eek:
Quote from: LMNO, PhD (life continues) on October 18, 2013, 04:49:07 PM
Anne has a sassy, hands-on-hips speech in the SS officer's face about girl power, before being rescued by a dude?
:lulz:
No, I'm thinking the love interest.
And there has to be a bad guy in charge. It can't just be Gestapo. Reinhard Heydrich, maybe.
Quote from: Dirty Old Uncle Roger on October 18, 2013, 04:19:20 PM
Quote from: Dirty Old Uncle Roger on October 18, 2013, 03:56:50 PM
1. Broker the sale of the rights to The Diary of Anne Frank to Disney.
The Gestapo would have their own song, see. They'd sing about "Where is she, where is she?" while they rip up the floorboards.
Anne would have a talking mouse as a friend in her cubby hole. The talking mouse, though, sneezes and gives away her hiding spot, then leads a madcap caste of characters to rescue her before she "goes up the stack".
Exactly. The way nobody died in the Disney version of
The Hunchback. Only with the Holocaust.
Oh, and the SS has to be semi-likable, bumbling idiots.
Quote from: Tiddleywomp Cockletit on October 18, 2013, 05:45:06 PM
Quote from: Dirty Old Uncle Roger on October 18, 2013, 04:19:20 PM
Quote from: Dirty Old Uncle Roger on October 18, 2013, 03:56:50 PM
1. Broker the sale of the rights to The Diary of Anne Frank to Disney.
The Gestapo would have their own song, see. They'd sing about "Where is she, where is she?" while they rip up the floorboards.
Anne would have a talking mouse as a friend in her cubby hole. The talking mouse, though, sneezes and gives away her hiding spot, then leads a madcap caste of characters to rescue her before she "goes up the stack".
Exactly. The way nobody died in the Disney version of The Hunchback. Only with the Holocaust.
Oh, and the SS has to be semi-likable, bumbling idiots.
Except for the boss. He's shouty and has lots of great songs about why he's so evil.
And he should look more Jewish than Anne. Or vaguely sinister-middle-eastern.
Quote from: LMNO, PhD (life continues) on October 18, 2013, 05:47:49 PM
And he should look more Jewish than Anne. Or vaguely sinister-middle-eastern.
Yeah. Thinking of
The Hunchback of Notre Dame, here. The evil priest was kind of Middle Eastern looking, come to think of it.
Anne needs a love interest. Hitler Youth?
Quote from: Tiddleywomp Cockletit on October 18, 2013, 05:52:46 PM
Anne needs a love interest. Hitler Youth?
No, the son of the family hiding her...Wait, no. The good folks are always second fiddle in this thing.
Yeah, a Hitler Youth who is having second thoughts.
And then HE has a sassy, hands-on-hips speech in the SS officer's face about girl power!
Quote from: LMNO, PhD (life continues) on October 18, 2013, 05:59:30 PM
And then HE has a sassy, hands-on-hips speech in the SS officer's face about girl power!
Whereupon he is dragged off to have his fingernails removed. Now the mouse has TWO people to rescue!
I would enjoy the hell out of that movie.
I have BAD taste in movies.
We need further testimony against The Good Reverend so when we have our day in court we can ensure that the judge sentences him to SHUT UP.
When TGRR was a little girl, he was once shamed and sent home by the principal for wearing his hair "au naturel" in two delicate little fluffballs on either side of his head. With sweet round cheeks streaked with the tears dripping from his big, innocent brown eyes, he swore revenge. Later that month, the principal and the teacher who remanded him to the principal's office were apprehended by the police while engaging in acts that were reported by the news as "unspeakable" with fourteen dead baby harp seals on the rocky shores of their Newfoundland village. Initially appearing to be in some sort of drug-induced trance, both broke into screaming hysterics as they came out of it in their prison cells, and were eventually determined unfit to stand trial, and transferred to a mental institution in Toronto.
TGRR returned to first grade, pretty as a picture with his afro-puffs tied in pink ribbons that perfectly matched his dress. He would frequently smile widely to himself for no apparent reason, and teachers noted to themselves that for such a dainty little girl, he seemed to have somehow too many teeth. They, wisely, kept this thought to themselves.
Quote from: The Right Reverend Nigel on June 17, 2014, 01:14:24 AM
When TGRR was a little girl, he was once shamed and sent home by the principal for wearing his hair "au naturel" in two delicate little fluffballs on either side of his head. With sweet round cheeks streaked with the tears dripping from his big, innocent brown eyes, he swore revenge. Later that month, the principal and the teacher who remanded him to the principal's office were apprehended by the police while engaging in acts that were reported by the news as "unspeakable" with fourteen dead baby harp seals on the rocky shores of their Newfoundland village. Initially appearing to be in some sort of drug-induced trance, both broke into screaming hysterics as they came out of it in their prison cells, and were eventually determined unfit to stand trial, and transferred to a mental institution in Toronto.
TGRR returned to first grade, pretty as a picture with his afro-puffs tied in pink ribbons that perfectly matched his dress. He would frequently smile widely to himself for no apparent reason, and teachers noted to themselves that for such a dainty little girl, he seemed to have somehow too many teeth. They, wisely, kept this thought to themselves.
:lulz:
Who's a pretty princess with razors in her mouth?
Could it be TGRR?
:lulz:
I found a rare childhood image of TGRR.
Sure, you think he looks sweet and harmless... until he smiles.
(http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lowd7gPIDJ1qhaayao1_400.png)
Quote from: The Right Reverend Nigel on June 17, 2014, 05:27:05 AM
I found a rare childhood image of TGRR.
Sure, you think he looks sweet and harmless... until he smiles.
(http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lowd7gPIDJ1qhaayao1_400.png)
So sweet. So innocent. With just a touch of "What the fuck you looking at, motherfucker?"
Quote from: The Right Reverend Nigel on December 18, 2012, 06:14:58 AM
I think Paes got a case of the Holies. :lulz:
Someone please explain what "Holies" is being referred to as? Haha. Even if in another thread.
Quote from: The Right Reverend Nigel on June 17, 2014, 05:27:05 AM
I found a rare childhood image of TGRR.
Sure, you think he looks sweet and harmless... until he smiles.
(http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lowd7gPIDJ1qhaayao1_400.png)
D'awwwww. Look at me. I'm PRETTY.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on June 17, 2014, 02:05:06 PM
Quote from: The Right Reverend Nigel on June 17, 2014, 05:27:05 AM
I found a rare childhood image of TGRR.
Sure, you think he looks sweet and harmless... until he smiles.
(http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lowd7gPIDJ1qhaayao1_400.png)
D'awwwww. Look at me. I'm PRETTY.
A pretty, pretty princess.
She's plotting something.
Quote from: UB on June 17, 2014, 09:02:12 AM
Quote from: The Right Reverend Nigel on December 18, 2012, 06:14:58 AM
I think Paes got a case of the Holies. :lulz:
Someone please explain what "Holies" is being referred to as? Haha. Even if in another thread.
A joyful rage that froths the corners of your mouth.
Quote from: George Edger Dingleburry on June 18, 2014, 02:43:28 AM
She's plotting something.
I say to myself, "This Bearman fellow: I like him. But he has too many organs. Nobody NEEDS all those organs."
Done, Paes.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on June 18, 2014, 01:45:41 PM
Quote from: George Edger Dingleburry on June 18, 2014, 02:43:28 AM
She's plotting something.
I say to myself, "This Bearman fellow: I like him. But he has too many organs. Nobody NEEDS all those organs."
:shitpants: