I am moving carefully today. Ducking below window ledges as I walk by. My head swivels frantically at any foreign noise.
It's good that I do not have to go to work on this day. That would be too dangerous.
On this day in 44 B.C., Julius Caesar was killed in a bloody assassination. That event has forever marked March 15 as a day of infamy.
Before Julie's untimely demise, an ides was simply one of several common calender terms used to mark monthly lunar events. The ides simply marked the appearance of the full moon. After the slaughter, The Ides of March came to represent a specific day of abrupt change that set off a ripple of repercussions throughout Roman society and beyond.
I feel the threatening presence of The Grand Inquisitor and His Minions lurking about my house. They have toyed with me, nay tortured me, for months now.
And now they plot to exact the ultimate vengeance. My violent death, both bloody and satisfying.
I don't know what I have done to provoke them, although there are those who would argue that I, much like Julius Caesar, have gotten too big for my britches.
No matter. If I survive the day, I will swear satisfaction on a quest to revenge the evil way I have been treated.
I have learned much from Josey Wales.
There is going to be a day of reckoning. Blood will grease the floors of the NHSLC HQ.
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