Paranormal, Courtroom Based, Comedic Play

FrankBlunt · Paranormal, Courtroom Based, Comedic Play

I'd like to welcome all of you to read the play that Jillian (UM alias Maelstrom5) and I began composing together. She has since become busy with her moderating duties on a site devoted to professional writing.

Shortly before deliberation begins, I'll post an update here to allow those interested in representing a juror to post their conclusions and verdict. If you aren't a UM member and don't wish to become one, I'll be happy to copy and paste your input to the UM thread without identifying you or your forum affiliation.

Link to State vs. Simpleton

FrankBlunt

As promised, below is the next installment of State vs. Simpleton. To read the entries prior to this, please click on the State vs. Simpleton link above. I've copied the last question by the judge for ease of transition from UM (Or for those who wish not to view my play from the beginning.).

FrankBlunt

I'd written a segment over a month ago relating to the dry cleaning of the judge's fez that I felt would be too offensive to post publicly as part of my play. Therefore, I'm posting it publicly as a deleted scene.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Judge Edwards utilizes court recess to have his beloved fez dry cleaned. He arrives at the shop and is greeted by a visibly puzzled attendant.

Dry Cleaner: Wud is dis?

Judge: It's from Turkey?

Dry Cleaner Dis chem odd of uh tuhkey?

Judge: No, it's from Turkey.

Dry Cleaner: (Patronizing) Dad's wud I sed.

Judge: (Frustrated) Sir... No... Turkey, the country!

Dry Cleaner: (Gleeful) Yes, yes! Gawbell, gawbell... in duh passchuh. Vehdy seely lewkeen buhds.

Judge: Where exactly are you from?

Dry Cleaner: Tuhkey.

Judge Edwards sighs in defeat at the dry cleaner and gazes into the air. On this particular occasion, he's actually thinking of God, not Bigg-Smart Asphalt Roofing Service.

Dry Cleaner: (Smug and satisfied) Wud? You tink my peepo doan hawve senz awve hewmell?

FrankBlunt

Judge Edwards storms away from the bench and rotates his head toward J. M. Five, Esquire to admire his fez. It compliments neither the orange jumpsuit nor the clown shoes, but this doesn't change the fact that Ms. Five feels as glamorous as a runway model. It should be noted, while we're on the topic of compliments, that Judge Edward's flattery directed at Ms. Five earlier was entirely sarcastic.

The stress relieving powers of fez gazing give way to terror as the judge notices a peculiar glisten within two inches of the hat's top.

Judge: Ms. Five? What happened to my fez?

Prudence remains in a state of shock immediately following her pseudo-termination, but enjoys limited relief at the sight of karma in action. Biohazardous fezzes don't customarily constitute retribution for union regulation violations. However, she'll accept it in the interim prior to grievance filing.

Five glances over to Prudence and can't comprehend how anyone could giggle at such a fashionable ensemble. Five returns her attention back to the judge to retort with patronizing insolence.

Five: You loaned it tuh me, Yo Honuh.

Judge Edwards rolls his eyes, and so does Five as she returns to the defense table upon discovering a fresh puddle of Simpleton spittle. Five removes the fez and mops up the mess.

Judge Edwards puts two and two together as he witnesses the spectacle.

Judge: Have you been using my fez as a sponge?

Five: Spose so, Yo Honuh. Dat uh prob'm?

The Judge's nostrils flare at the abominable grammar and sentence structure, and he reluctantly opts to partake in the Ebonics extravaganza.

Judge: No, it's a huge prob'm! I won't have time now to summon Freida Fingerscorchin for stenography duty as I will need to devote this afternoon to the dry cleaners.

Judge Edwards' frowning gaze is aimed away from Five toward Prudence, but joy overwhelms him, in the wake of a sudden epiphany, with the news he's so pleased to report.

Judge: Ms. Stanwyck, you can advise your union representative that Steno-Bot 1982's service is to be extended indefinitely following this recess, as I intend to purchase a multitude of budget-priced, space age cassette tapes from I Bought A Bot Super Store.

Prudence: Oh no you don't!

Judge: What? You think I'm going to spend double at Stereo Shack where they demand my phone number? Anyway, I'll have Freida type up the courtroom exchange after hours so I'll never deplete my supply.

Prudence extends her hands upward toward her head to express frustration via facial epidermal gouging. In mid extension, she takes the opportunity to scratch at a few flea bites on the back of her neck.

Judge: Ladies and gentlemen of the court, there is a Java The Hut adjacent to the electronics shop, and I'm equipped with coupons, so if anybody wants coffee or pastries, speak now or forever hold your peace.

Prudence's eyes light up behind the canopy of her hands. She's quite fond of the gourmet selections at Java The Hut. Since her grievance will be fully supported by the union, she finds no cause to pursue the matter further at the moment.

Prudence: I'll have a Luke warm Vanil-Lea latte.

Judge: Isn't that a bit Greedo of you under the circumstances? Besides, wouldn't you prefer it hot?

Prudence: Han.

Judge: Han? I beg your pardon.

Prudence: They refer to hot as Han at Java The Hut.

Judge: But that makes no sense.

Prudence: Not to you, but it does to them.

Judge Edwards looks over toward the jury box at Josephine Simpleton. In addition to the sun ray patterns, Mr. 13 now has a series of pimple-like marks about his cheeks and neck region. Pimples weren't Josephine's intention. She doesn't particularly care for Mr. 13 and his non-verbal taunting, so the blemishes are a byproduct of random magic marker stabbings.

Judge:Josephine?

Josephine: Uh huh?

Judge: Would you like some Han chocolate?

Josephine wedges the pink highlighter pen in Mr. 13's ear to offer Judge Edwards her undivided attention.

Josephine: Ooh! Can I have a Han Solo?

Jacquelyn Simpleton detects the dumbfoundedness in Judge Edwards' expression and stands to clarify her daughter's query.

Jacquelyn: Your Honor? What she wants is a hot chocolate drink with a single over-sized marshmallow floating on top.

Judge: But Jaba's the one who's over-sized. And Han was frozen, not placed in hot liquid.

Jacquelyn: (Sanctimonious) He is white, though.

Judge: (Sarcastic) Well... now it all makes perfect sense.

Jacquelyn: Regardless, Your Honor, Garth Bader will insist that you refer to it as a Han Solo. The staff throw Boba Fits if you order improperly.

Judge: Garth Bader?

Jacquelyn: It's B.S., Your Honor.

Judge Edwards looks to his gavel upon hearing such blatant disrespect, and incidentally frowns at what is now a hop cushion-themed judicial accessory.

Judge: I beg your pardon, Ms. Simpleton?!

Jacquelyn: Barista Supervisor.

Judge: (Relieved) Oh.

Jacquelyn: And would you mind picking up a chocolate chip wookie for Josephine? She's behaving herself so well with the painting job you assigned her.

Mr. 13 shakes his involuntarily accessorized head at Jacquelyn.

Judge: What's a wookie?

Jacquelyn laughs at the pen protruding from Mr. 13's head, then turns her attention back to the judge.

Jacquelyn: It's a chewy cookie.

Judge: So I can't request crumbly, firm wookies?

Jacquelyn: All wookies are chewy.

Judge: Don't you mean that Chewy is a Wookie?

Jacquelyn: I don't understand.

Judge: There's no time for this discussion. I should have you speak with my friend, Canis Incorruptus. He's the Star Wars freak.

Will Judge Edwards survive a rendezvous with Garth Bader, B.S.?

Does I Bought A Bot Super Store stock cassettes for Steno-Bots manufactured in 1982?

What relevance does any of this have to the case against Jessica Simpleton?

FrankBlunt

For those of you who have chosen not to read the play from its beginning on Unexplained-Mysteries.com, you'll have to read the opening statement in order to understand a key element in this installment.

Jacquelyn sifts through her memory banks for anything she can recall of Latin. She believes Judge Edwards should be ashamed of himself for having a friend whose name is a double entendre. Jacquelyn concedes that some fury must be stifled, and returns to her seat.

Judge: Ms. Five? D.A. Watkins? Do either of you want anything?

Five: Nuthin' fuh me, Yo Honuh.

Watkins: Ditto.

Judge Edwards shakes his head at Watkins' unquestioning compliance in mimicking such dribble, then fixes his gaze on the witness stand.

Judge: Bernard? I'd like to apologize again for the halo incident. It wouldn't be ethical of me to purchase refreshments for you as a witness, but please don't hesitate to stroll out to the parking lot and tap your whiskey barrel in the interest of pain management.

Bernard smiles at the judge and begins to exit the courtroom.

Judge Edwards allows Ms. Five to continue wearing the fez, and plans to have it laundered following the day's session. He walks out a few paces behind Bernard and heads for his car.

I Bought A Bot Super Store does stock cassettes for Judge Edward's model of Steno-Bot, and therefore his trip to that particular establishment is uneventful. In all, the Judge now has a quantity of 12 60 minute tapes to his name. 8 for each day in court, and 4 for back-up. Judge Edwards was a Boyscout after all, in addition to being a basketball star in his own mind.

The coffee shop is across the street, and Judge Edwards can't wait to redeem his coupons. However, he is a bit confused by the theme present in the drive-thru area.

Java The Hut was constructed on the site of a former fast food restaurant, and the owner saw no need to remove the clown-shaped microphone/speaker shell.

Judge Edwards creeps up to the clown and makes sure to fire the ding to the attendant by running over the alerting wire fastened to the concrete.

Barista: (Bubbly, caffeinated, and flamboyant) Welcome to Java The Hut! May I take your order?

Judge: Yes. I'll have one warm vanilla latte, one hot chocolate with a big marshmallow, a chocolate chip cookie, and a regular coffee.

The barista's face turns bright purple as his mood escalates from holly jolly barista to full-blown Boba Fit status.

Barista: Arrrgh! You mean a Luke warm Vanil-Lea Latte, a Han Solo, and a chocolate chip Wookie! And we don't have regular coffee!

Judge Edwards develops a sudden onset of coulrophobia (Known on the street as Bozophobia), and can't even begin to process the unprecedented rudeness with which he's being met.

Judge: Good lord! Who are you to speak to me with that tone?

The barista has returned to his former bubbly, caffeinated, flamboyant self.

Barista: (Friendly tone beyond normal human comprehension, in the manner that those high decibel sounds dogs hear are imperceptible to us) Ben!

Judge: Ben, may I please speak to your supervisor? Immediately?!

Ben: One moment, sir.

An odd sound echoes from the clown's mouth

Odd sound: schwew, schwew, schwew...

Judge: Is that him?

Ben: No, sir. That's not a person, it's our milk frother.

Another odd sound: Hoo hee... hoo hee... hoo hee..

Judge: Ah! Now that must be him.

Ben: No, that's my uterinitic co-worker, Margie, practicing Lamaze.

Judge Edwards pulls his car forward to inspect the situation more closely.

Judge: Isn't that a health code violation?

Ben: Breathing? [Sigh] It's not as if we permit gestationally endowed staff to expel autonomous feti in here, sir.

Judge: (Disgusted) Don't you mean "fetuses"? Personally, I think you may have had a bit too much exposure to exotic fungi, Fetus Boy. And what the heck does uterinitic mean?

Ben: (Awed congeniality) Hey! How'd you know my nickname was "Fetus Boy"? I was born two months premature, so it stuck. Anyway, Margie has a moderately severe case of uterinitis.

Judge Edwards experiences disappointment and weeps for the future: perhaps 1/10 the magnitude of Oscar judges who regrettably lauded Al Gore's documentary as a masterpiece.

Judge: Inflammation of the uterus? Uterinitis isn't a legitimate medical condition. So she's pregnant. Give me a break! When can I expect to speak with your supervisor?

Ben: He's on his way now, sir.

Garth exits his office in the back of the store to meet with the honorable complainant. Without premeditation, he begins singing a little tune.

Garth: Da dum da dum da duh duh duh duh, dee dum duh dum da da da, da dat da dat da da da da da... Pop! Goes the...

Judge Edwards' eyes widen and his mouth gapes at the familiarity of this jingle to which he's being subjected.

Judge: (Accusatory) You were singing "Pop Goes The Weasel."

Garth waves his hand in front of Judge Edwards in a soothing, sweeping motion.

Garth: No, I wasn't singing "Pop Goes The Weasel."

The Judge enters a temporary catatonia.

Judge: No, you weren't singing "Pop Goes The Weasel."

Judge Edwards shakes his head, attempts to regain his bearings, and then remembers his disagreement with the barista in the customer mobility facilitator lane.

Judge: I thought you should be informed that Drive-thru Fetus Boy Barista Ben just threw a Boba Fit.

Garth wags his finger at the Judge to erase all memory of the past five minutes.

Garth: Hello, Judge Edwards. And how are you this fine day? I heard that you're presiding over the Simpleton case.

Judge: Yes, I am. Are you acquainted with her?

Garth: One could say that we were once inseparable: peas in a pod. But our circumstances became suffocating, and I departed suddenly.

Judge: This may seem a strange question, but did you know Beverly Ann DeWitt-Karapetyan?

Garth: [Shrugs] Not personally.

Garth receives the purchases from Ben and hands them to the Judge. Judge Edwards places them in the adjacent seat.

Judge: Professionally?

Garth: She issued me numerous parking citations when the meter expired outside Breath Star Family Dentistry.

Judge: So you had a grudge... and bad teeth, apparently?

Garth not only sweeps his hand to nullify the suspiciousness and erase memory, but knocks at the air to remotely clunk Judge Edwards' forehead, and finally inverts his hand to grab the judge's nostrils and smack his nose. Moe Howard is smiling from his grave.

Garth: I used to see Beverly regularly when I worked at E-Wok Village downtown, and we'd exchange brief pleasantries.

Judge Edwards has never heard of E-Wok Village.

Judge: Where?

Garth: The Internet cafe that served gourmet Chinese food. They closed about a year ago. Well, it's been super to see you, Your Honor. I hope you'll come back soon.

Judge Edwards looks to the passenger seat of his car and can't account for the drinks and cookie that now occupy the space. There's a lump on his head and his nose is red as Rudolph's, but at least he has a healthy supply of Steno-Bot cassettes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he senses something Earth-shattering that should be revealed to the attorneys, but he can't put his finger on it.

FrankBlunt

Judge Edwards pulls his car forward to the exit, and pauses to collect his thoughts, not to mention the hopes of recovering his memories of the last few minutes.

Judge: (Thinking out loud with his nose too swollen to annunciate properly) Wud is dis food dewig heyuh? My coopause uh stiw aw duh dash. I did'd pay fuh eddie of dis. Ad why do I have dis headeck? My doze stigs, too. Cwap! I cad go back to coat talkig like dis!

A heavily decorated car turns toward the entrance to Java The Hut on the Judge's immediate left, and he notices a familiar, smiling face behind the wheel with a rage shrouded by make-up.

Terry Feidov The Clown: (Furious) You're going down, Dishonorable Eddie! For stealing my ortho-comedic shoes!

Judge Edwards blinks and sinks his head backward into a non-slouching position, where we all should prop our heads but never do, to express shock.

Terry Feidov The Clown: (Crescendo from smugness to contentment) That's right. I don't know if you've been subpoenaed yet, or if you've retained counsel, but It's gonna be Tara Buhl for me. Ha ha!

Terry honks the poorly simulated pipe organ car horn to emphasize his incurable glee.

Horn of Circus Tent on Wheels: Boop boop boo da doo doo doot doot doo doo!

Garth Bader gazes outside upon hearing what he perceives as Terry's signature greeting, delivers a remote high-five in the spirit of friendship, but unintentionally squirts Terry's artificial flower into his eyes in the aftermath of the judicial confrontation.

Incidentally, Garth Bader will be in contact with Lucasfilm Corp. shortly to request approval for replacement of Java The Hut's customer mobility facilitator speaker / microphone shell with a more suitable icon. Obviously, the municipal court will not be burdened with civil action in Feidov versus Bader. Terry would actually need to recollect that there's an "us" to justify "verse".

At first, Judge Edwards is too preoccupied with his own victimization to concern himself with Terry's, but then he becomes confused.

Judge: (Thinking to himself silently, for the sake of English proficiency) Why would he laugh if he's expecting a terrible outcome? Terrible? Tara... Oh no! Don't tell me he's retained Tara Buhl. Man... she's good, too. That leaves me no choice but to hire Amin Osehnt.

Meanwhile, back at the courthouse, Bernard has become inebriated from excessive whiskey consumption. Jane Mary Five stands at the awning near the courthouse entrance admiring truth serum in action while using the flower beds as her personal spittoon. Thankfully, the flowers are not aromatic, and rarely attract activity-challenged botanical aficionados (The "Stop 'n Sniffs", as Five refers to them).

Bailiff Anderson figured Josephine might become bored in Mr. 13's absence, so he pried the halo from Bernard's head and invited her to a game of Frisbee. Bernard was quite agreeable and required no coaxing whatsoever.

Mr. 13 is in the washroom removing pink highlighter marks from his face, especially the sun rays on his forehead. Juror #12 desperately needed a stretch in order to restore sensation to her legs, and is beginning to experience cramps from Josephine's weight.

Jacquelyn Simpleton has involved herself in the game of catch without Bailiff Anderson's consent. She's using a handkerchief to wipe any trace of Anderson's body oil free from the halo's surface before handing it off to her daughter. How will she deal with the chocolate chip wookie and hot cocoa from Judge Edwards? Is it abundantly clear that she's a devoted fan of Oprah Winfrey and lifetime member of N.O.W.? What does the future hold for Josephine Simpleton? Will she rebel? Let's hope so.

FrankBlunt

I apologize for the formatting of the script. As of today, I notice that many of the character statements are conjoined with the narration. When I attempt to edit, the preview pane appears normal.

I'll check with Bebi and make adjustments manually if necessary.

EDIT: This seems to have been a temporary glitch with the server or an issue with my own browser.

FrankBlunt

With this latest scene, some of you will get a taste of how I and many others felt reading Shakespeare, or quotes by the hicks in Mark Twain novels, in high school. I managed to avoid Shakespeare altogether in college, and my prayers of sympathy have been extended to those who didn't.

In the courtroom, Jessica is sitting at the defense table, handcuffed behind her back, belted to the chair, drinking from a cherry flavored juice box, and turning pages of a fashion magazine with her straw. Five will receive an additional boost of confidence when she discovers the monstrosities that are strolling down the runway these days.

Prudence is patiently waiting for her Luke warm Vanil-Lea Latte. She'll be departing shortly to update the union representatives with the latest in the Steno-bot saga.

Jurors have been sequestered in the break room, where a vending machine supplier is being questioned by union representatives in the matter of Henderson vs. Edwards. The verdict handed down in Expired Tuna Sandwich vs. Henderson amounted to a lot of noise, but yielded no substantial damages.

The ruffians are stalking the supplier, carefully monitoring his body language and movements in the hopes of being the first recipients of stale chips and sodas. Not diet sodas, mind you. Even the ruffians are savvy enough to avoid ingesting neurotoxins.

Normally jurors aren't kept in company with courtroom guests outside preceedings, but when asked yesterday by Judge Edwards for their knowledge of Jessica Simpleton, Ruffian #1 responded "Hot and Stupid."; this just so happens to be one of the U.A.C. Ruffians Four's greatest hits amongst barbershop hip-hop fusion fans in the astral plane. It's an uncoventional blend, but managed to earn a polite nod from gospel rock-a-billy legend Roy Orbison.

Agreement from Ruffians 2 through 4 regarding Ms. Simpleton without elaboration beyond physical attributes and intellectual void quelled Judge Edwards' fears that jurors may be swayed.

Judge Edwards' arrival at the courthouse parking lot is met with stares by the staff and trial spectators. None have yet seen his facial injuries; it's days when he drives the Rolls Royce that lead to jaw-dropping covetousness. As usual, he heads for the staff parking lot in order to use the rear courthouse entrance.

Not to digress, but it should be noted that Terry Feidov The Clown suffered a blow to his ulnar nerve* when colliding with the speaker / microphone shell at Java The Hut.

Jack Russell is outside on the grass with Bailiff Anderson, Jacquelyn, and Josephine. Anderson didn't invite Jack for halo toss either, but that's not dissuading him from darting back and forth, parallel with the flight path, each time the halo's thrown.

The Judge finds Bernard sitting on the sidewalk leading toward the main courthouse entrance. Bernard is barely able to sit, and this has more relevance to the dryness of his barrel than its bed sore inducing position beneath the seat of his trousers. Bernard loses his balance and tilts to the left beyond the point of no return with a wholly undignifed thud.

Bernard: Ugh!

The Judge stops his car and opens the right door to exit. His mental faculties are intact, and he's not particularly agile. The Rolls is a British model.

Judge: Buhdawd!? Aw you awight?

Bernard: (Slurred speech) Yeah. Spose so. Yuh-yuh-you been a drinkin' too, Juh-juhdz?

Judge: Doh, my doze is pwahbuhbwee bwoken.

Bernard wipes slobber from his face with the back of his left hand and sits upright. Before he can comment on the Judge's physical condition, the Judge addresses him again.

Judge: Why doh'd you go hobe, Buhdawd? Cub back tuhbahwoah mowdig whid yuh sobuh.

This request somehow registers with Bernard in his drunken stupor. He staggers over to his car, of which Judge Edwards thinks nothing. Friends don't let friends drive drunk, but Bernard is a Frisbee-wearing meter butler trainee.

Five sees the Judge's nose and forehead injuries from her vantage point and approaches him.

Five: Wha'd y'all do tuh yuh face, Yo Honuh?

Judge: I doh'd doh.

Five: We all a bit stupid sometime, Yo Honuh, but wudja do tuh yuhself?

Judge: I half doh idea, Ms. Fife.

Five: I be guessin' dat no good Gawf Baduh got sump'n tuh do wit dis.

The Judge shakes his head and stares blankly at Five.

Following his brief interlude with Ms. Five, Judge Edwards wishes to address the crowd of trial spectators, witnesses and staff to avoid explaining his condition repeatedly.

Judge: Evweewud gaduh woud, pwease?

Hilarity ensues. The Judge demurely returns to his car, proceeds to the staff parking lot, and slips into his chambers without gracing the main entrance like a laughing stock.

Five offers her synopsis of Judge Edwards' altered state to interested parties, but not without duping one of them into stopping and sniffing the chaw-soaked flower bed.

The courtroom is re-occupied.

Juror #12 ambulates gingerly to her seat in the jury box.

Anderson has placed Bernard's magnetic halo on the witness stand for safe keeping, adjacent to Judge Edwards' usual resting spot for Steno-Bot 1982.

Josephine realizes that Anderson is on the verge of announcing the Judge's re-entry from his chambers, and sprints toward Juror #12. She hops onto her lap enthusiastically and yanks the highlighter pen from Mr. 13's right ear. Why he failed to extract it is a conundrum, but one that may boil down to bureaucratic oversight.

Juror #12 was suffering shooting pains during recess, but bonding time with Josephine restores her optimism.

The Judge opens the door and emerges from his chambers without coffee or cookies.

Anderson: All rise! Court is now in session. The Disfigured, Linguistically-Challenged Judge Edwards presiding.

Judge Edwards has grown immune to Anderson's taunts. He maintains his Steno-Bot routine, and decides that the halo's center is a nifty location to store the space-age cassettes.

Prudence exits after noting the placement of the cassettes, which spells certain doom for Steno-Bot's short-lived career.

Judge: Sack you, Baiwiff Aduhsud. Pwease be seated, wadies ad jetuhbud.

Juror #12 suffers a shooting pain in her femur.

Juror #12: Arghhh!

As she screams, Juror #12 (a.k.a. Anita Goodbody) unwittingly catapults Josephine into Mr. 13's arms.

Jacquelyn witnesses Josephine's physical contact with a man and rushes over to the jury box with an accompanying scream.

Jacquelyn: Ahhhhh!

Judge Edwards glares at Ms. Goodbody and strikes his gavel.

Judge: Oduh id duh coat!

D.A. Watkins opens his double-breasted suit and takes a whiff. Having found nothing socially objectionable, he buttons himself and checks to all sides for witnesses to his examination.

Five doesn't bother subjecting herself to olfactory analysis. She wears so much Eau de Toilet that department store patrons smell her when they check their wrists at the fragrance counter.

Five: Aw tuck uh showuh dis moanin', Yo Honuh. And aw reckon dis jumpsuit been launduhd.

The Judge focuses on Five.

Judge: (Frustrated, but with restraint) Doh, Ms. Fife. I wiw half oduh id duh coat.

Five: (Smiles) You gotta bit uh duh shine, too, Yo Honuh? Dawn silly thin tuh be predictin'. Self-fowfillin' prophecy, if y'all axe me. Polyestuh black robe, ya know?

The Judge surrenders to Five's ramblings and turns to question Ms. Goodbody.

Jacquelyn has transported Josephine to the guest seating section.

Judge: Aw you okay, Ms. Goodbody?

Anita: My legs are restless, Your Honor.

Judge: Do you evuh exuhcise?

Anita: No. Who exercises these days, Your Honor?

Judge: Doze who do'd suffuh fwub westwiss weg sydwobe. Havid you seed duh televijid ad fuh Weequip? Duh actuh says he has to wise fwub his couch fuh wuhwief? Dat's duh adsuh. Yuh excused fwub duh wemaider of duh twyoh, Ms. Goodbody.

Anita exits the jury box and departs from the courtroom.

Judge: Aduhsud?

Bailiff Anderson is in the process of handing Josephine a pink psi-dodecahedron pick-me-up when Judge Edwards requests his attention.

Jacquelyn bats it away with her left hand before Josephine can stabilize it in her fist.

Josephine: (Whimpering) Uhhhh!

Mr. 13: (Struck in face by IFP-D**) Oof!

Mr. 13's face is peppered with sparkling, neon pink ectoplasm.

Josephine: (Laughing) He he!

The Judge is oblivious to Anderson's charity and utterances related to psi-dodecahedron deflection.

Anderson's eyes meet those of the Judge.

Judge: Pwease fide duh awtuhfishow juhwuh to put id pwace of Ms. Goodbody.

Anderson steps away from Josephine and heads for the attic space above the Judge's chambers.

Judge:Watkids? Caw yuh dext witdiss.

Watkins: (Stands) The State calls Jack Russell to the stand, Your Honor.

Jack had his ear to the door, so he enters without Anderson having to summon him. He presents himself as nervous and hyper, and his face has an odd greenish tint to it. He approaches the stand.

Judge: Josuhpheed?

Josephine raises her head and smiles at the Judge.

Josephine: Yes?

Judge: Do you mide if we youthe yuh book agid?

Josephine minds terribly, but was taught by her mother that "No" means "No".

Josephine: (Emphatic) No!

Josephine lunges herself forward out of Jacquelyn's lap and grabs her Garfield book from the adjacent seat. She presses the book against her torso, folds her arms, and clutches it tightly.

Josephine: Use the other one, Puffy Nose!

Judge Edwards reaches his left hand toward his face to inspect the size of his heavily reddened nose, and with his right hand clasps the gavel to stifle any laughter from others present.

Judge: Wud udduh wud, Josie? Ad could you pwease caw me, "Yuh Odduh", uh "Juch Edwuhds"?

Jacquelyn opens her "Ollie North For President" monogrammed handbag that her ex-husband bought her as a gag gift, which she still doesn't understand. Ollie struck her as an ethnic name, and she thought it might aid her social connectivity during N.O.W. meetings by outwardly cultivating diversity.

She hesitantly retrieves a copy of The Satanic Verses and holds it to the right side of her head.

Jacquelyn: This one, Your Honor.

Courtroom occupants gasp, even those who can't see the book from behind Jacquelyn, because gasping begets further gasping.

Judge: Wud is yuh daughtuh doig wid a copy of dat book?

Josephine becomes rattled by the accusatory tone and reaction from the crowd.

Anderson returns from the chamber attic with a mannequin to replace Anita Goodbody. The wig was left behind to avoid arousing Mr. 13, or insulting Jessica with the presence of a more intelligent blonde.

Josephine: (Inflamed) I like Salman!

Jacquelyn looks down to Josephine, smiling approvingly with latent insincerity. She then shrugs to the judge with her face by widening her eyes and pursing her lips.

Josephine scans the courtroom, and her eyes well up in the manner that children's eyes do when pre-pubescent literary preference queries are posed.

Josephine: He's fuzzy!

Courtroom occupants nod their heads, and Josephine places the Garfield book on her lap to wipe tears from her cheeks.

Judge: Aduhsud? Pwease wuhtwieve duh book fwub Ms. Sipuhtud.

Anderson snaps to attention, complies with the Judge's order and plops the book upon the witness stand.

Judge: Pwoceed, Baiwiff Aduhsud.

Jack shifts position rapidly in his seat in light of all the excitement, and then fixes his eyes on Anderson expectantly.

Anderson: Place your left hand upon the book and your right hand in the air, Mr. Russell.

Jack reluctantly places his left hand on the book.

Anderson: Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you...

As with the prior witness, Anderson looks to the Judge for direction. He aims his right index finger toward the ceiling, hoping to yin the yang of Rushdie's controversial novel.

Judge Edwards shakes his head with a deadpan expression and points his finger to the floor.

Anderson: (Alarmed) Him, Your Honor?

Judge: (Sinister) Doh... It.

The revised pronoun jogs Anderson's memory of an axe murderer case when he substituted for Bailiff Henderson.

Anderson: (Enlightened) Ah, yes.

Anderson directs his attention back to Jack in the ~~box...~~ witness stand.

Anderson: So help you Lizzy Borden 4-D Wax?

Judge rows his hands in a circular pattern, to urge Anderson forward, without completing the famous lawnmower maneuver made popular at the height of the disco era.

Anderson: A New Dimension of Killer Shine?

Jack leaps out of his seat and darts from the courtroom.

Most courtroom occupants gasp. Since variety is the spice of life, some gulp nervously.

Judge: Mistuh Wussow! Weetuhd to duh witdess stad dis idstit!

Anderson: Should I confine him, Your Honor?[/b]

Judge: Yes, pwease, ad take hib to jayoh fuh cudtept. But do'd loituh at duh cew bwock dis tibe. It took a Haz-Bat teab fife owuz to dispose of yuh psi-gwobuwoah goo aftuh you ad Mistuh Feidov tweated each uduh to a testostewode copuhtishud.

Where is Jack Russell headed?

Did something frighten him, or is he the gastroenterological victim of Jane Mary Five's "Stop 'n Sniff" shenanigans?

Does he speak, or should D.A. Watkins have brought biscuits?

Is Bernard blessed with the ability to drive more effectively while intoxicated?

What substances will he ingest for pain management in the absence of his halo?

*Click Here for the ulnar nerve punch-line if you shook your head. Click there (Where it says "Here": not the one following 'says' and preceding 'but', the one after 'Click) if you'd like to know more about the ulnar nerve. What's wrong? You don't like my hyperlink? Type in the address of your preferred search engine if you don't trust Wikipedia, or grab the anatomy book from your den. Why does your book open so readily to the chapter discussing our nasty bits?

**IFP-D - Identified Flying Psi-Dodecahedron

FrankBlunt

Five finally accounts for Bernard's absence and approaches the bench while Anderson searches for Jack.

The 'woosh clip clop' of Five's jumpsuit and clown shoes will be implied from this point forward, unless Mr. Feidov, or his aforementioned attorney, visits the court to recover said footwear. Within the latter scenario, imagine Five wooshing only.

D.A. Watkins is privy to the breach in court ethics and addresses the Judge.

Watkins: Um... Excuse me, Your Honor? J.M. Five Esquire can't approach the bench in my absence.

Judge: Agweed, Mistuh Watkids. Pwease step foewuhd.

Watkins stands and walks to the bench.

Judge Edwards turns abruptly to Five.

Judge: What do you wad, Ms. Fife?

Five: Whe'z Buhnawd, Yo Honuh?

Judge: He dwove hibseff hobe.

Five: (Worrisome) Drunk?

Judge: (Frustrated) My doze is bwokuhd, Ms. Fife, I'b dot dwuck.

Five: No. Buhnawd was drunk.

Judge: Oh, idoobidibwee.

Five: Why'd you let 'em drive?

The Judge becomes impatient and beams at Five with scorn for questioning his authority.

Judge: He was'd a fwed. Have a theat, coutselluhs.

Five and Watkins return to their respective tables.

Following a brief delay, Mr. 13 raises his hand to ask Judge Edwards a question.

Judge: Yes, Mistuh Suhteed?

Mr. 13: What is this dummy doing here? And why am I not assuming Anita's position?

Judge: Dat's doh ohdidehwee dubby, Mistuh Suhteed. Poh duh stwig odd duh back.

Mr 13. locates the finger ring and yanks until the string is taut.

Artificial Juror #12: (Sinister, with hand raised, pointing at the defense table) Guilty!

Judge Edwards giggles ominously at the sound and turns toward Jessica. Courtroom occupants giggle sympathetically to offset the Judge's awkwardness.

Jessica's eyes are opened widely, and her straw is shifting violently back and forth.

Jessica: Mmf!

Judge: Poh it halfway back, Mistuh Suhteed.

Mr. 13 complies.

Artificial Juror #12: (Grinning with the innocence of Winnie The Pooh) Not guilty!

Jessica's eyes relax and she breathes a sigh of relief in Five's direction.

Five wipes her right hand on her face, raises it above her head, and transfers the fluid to Judge Edward's fez. She then furrows her brow and prepares to address the judge.

Five: Scuse me, Yo Honuh?

Judge: Yes, Ms. Fife?

Five: Why ain't we usin' Mistuh Thuhteen fo duh remainduh uh dis trawl?

Judge: Do you wad Ms. Sipuhtud's fate to wie id duh hads of uh mad wiff peek ectopwasub aw ovuh his faith?

Five: (Relieved) No. Thanks, Yo Honuh.

Mr. 13's head slumps down to neck level. Sadly, for him, no ectoplasm drips from his face.

Watkins: Your Honor?

Judge: Yes, Mistuh Watkids?

Watkins: The State will stipulate, on the condition that the artificial juror receives a tug from a member of the initial jury pool.

Judge: Agweed. But make shuh it'th dot uh State epwoyee. Fife dawwuhs is cheapuh dad payig fow govuhdbut sahwuhwee. Ad wew half to cudduct uh sewecshud pwoceth to detuhmud knawweds of duh awtuhfishow juhwuh befoh dewibuhwayshud.

Five and Watkins turn to one another, realizing that the cost of an additional jury selection surpasses any salary concerns of State or private sector employees. However, they're keenly aware of Judge Edwards' temper when challenged by subordinates.

Meanwhile, Prudence Stanwyck is outside the courtroom placing a phone call to her union representative on the matter of Steno-Bot 1982.

The local union number has been dialed.

Fast Routing Automated Union Dispatcher: Hello, this is FRAUD. Please listen carefully as our menu options are updated frequently. To report sexual harassment by a judge, bailiff, or other court employee, press 1. To report sexual harassment by a court spectator, press 2. To report verbal or physical retribution by a judge, bailiff, other court employee, or court spectator previously accused of sexual harassment, press 3. To speak with a union representative about union violations not involving electronic stenographer substitutes, press 4. For all other business, please press 0 now, or hold for the next available representative.

Prudence presses 0 and is placed on hold. FRAUD music begins to play: Muzak rendition of Michael Jackson's "Beat it", followed by Divinyls' "I Touch Myself", and Clarence Carter's "Strokin'.

Will Josephine ever receive her Wookie and Han Solo?

Where is Jack Russell?

Are sobriety check-points unconstitutional? Will this help Bernard in his appeal if he's arrested on a DUI charge?

FrankBlunt

I'd said that I wasn't going to continue my play. My exact phrasing had something to do with not stopping for cookies when the servers are crashing. That's paraphrasing and not exact phrasing, and I'm sleepy, regardless, but have a cookie.

-------------------------------------------

The gratifying pleasure we know best as Muzak ceases, and a click is heard by Prudence on the other end of the line.

Her anticipation mounts as the silence becomes a ring, and the ring gives way to the voice.

Union Ociate: (Because "Associate" is deemed offensive) Hi, Prudence! This is Union Ociate, Garth Bader. How can I help you today?

Prudence: (Disgusted) You? Oh...

Prudence crinkles her nose and sneers, sticks out her tongue in vomit posture, and feels a sudden pain in her right cheek as if someone smacked her.

Garth places his hand back on the keyboard.

Garth: (Smiles proudly) U.O. Yes. Union Ociate.

Shock finally sets in for Prudence. She shakes her head at the U.O. nonsense.

Prudence: How did you know it was me?!

Garth: (Makes "Duh?" expression) Caller I.D.

Prudence: (Breathing heavily, and panting like Margie from Java The Hut) But I'm calling from the pay phone at the courthouse lobby.

Garth: (Smug) Yeah, what's your point? And knock off the Lamaze.

Prudence feels a sudden kick to her abdomen, and can't remember anything except that she's speaking to a barista supervisor.

Prudence: I thought you were a barista supervisor?

Garth: I am. I moonlight for the benefit of FRAUD. Java The Hut isn't exactly labor intensive when I have Fetus Boy at my side. That kid's a real go-getter.

Garth punches his fist into the air in "Atta boy!" fashion as he compliments "Fetus Boy" Ben.

Prudence's head lurches backward as an intense pressure suddenly strikes against her chin.

Garth: What can I do for you, Prudence?

Prudence: I...

Garth cuts her off mid-sentence.

Garth: Let me guess. It has something to do with Steno-Bot 1982.

Prudence: How did you know?

Garth raises his right arm to neck level and bobs his fist loosely up and down.

Prudence blushes and squeezes her knees together tightly.

Garth: (Stoical) No comment. What would you like me to do?

Prudence: (Confident) Isn't it a union violation to replace a human stenographer with an electronic recording device?

Garth: Didn't you see the judge place the device near the magnetic halo?

Prudence: (Flabbergasted) Yes I did! But...

Garth interrupts, interjects, undermines, and unravels the query.

Garth: Then what are you calling me for?

Prudence: (Somewhat speechless) I... You...

Garth: (Stern) Stop converting the initials of my behaviors and/or stations into pronouns!

Prudence can't believe how unhelpful the union had been, or that they'd hired someone as evil as Garth Bader, but in any event she doesn't feel he is an asset to the organization.

Garth: (Furious) Et! Goodbye, Ms. Stanwyck.

Phone line goes dead.

From where Prudence stands by the pay phone, she can hear someone getting sick in the men's restroom. Someone already sick, in fact, but her specific thought was that of "getting sick".

Bailiff Anderson passes by Prudence while on the prowl for Jack Russell, and ducks behind a support beam with MacGyver precision. He smiles kindly to Prudence and offers her a psi-dodecahedron, which she refuses with a shaking hand and facial expression that mimics vacationers receiving Spam at a luxury cruise liner's black tie dinner.

FrankBlunt

Will Prudence be hiring an in to ist her with the untimely demise of Garth Bader, given the harment she suffered? Stay tuned...

FrankBlunt

Bailiff Anderson clears his throat and prepares to shout in the direction of the men's restroom.

Prudence hangs up the pay phone and returns to the courtroom to ascertain the whereabouts of her Java The Hut latte.

Anderson pants, and paws nervously at his neck.

Anderson: You in there, Russell?

Jack is kneeling respectfully before the P.C. (Porcelain Creator), not praying, and is in no position to answer questions at this juncture.

Jack: Bwah! Ahh!

Being that he is pathologically paranoid and emotionally unstable, Anderson is prone to taking everything personally.

Anderson: That's Bailiff Anderson, you feisty little mutt!

Anderson bursts into the men's room and chooses to exclaim, "Ah ha!", with fervent conviction, even though no one is visible upon entry.

Anderson: Ah ha!

Anderson hurls the psi-dodecahedron that failed to meet Prudence's standards of taste at the stall door where he can hear someone clearing his throat.

Jack: Bwaugh! Ahh! (Hoarse, and thankfully without the trots) What are you doing?!

Anderson: Mind your own business, Russell! Anyway, you can't leave the courtroom while you're being sworn in.

Jack: Bwah! Ahh! You ended that sentence with a preposition. (Continues paying his respects) Bwah! Ahh!

Anderson thinks to himself for a moment, moves his lips in the attempt to remember how he addressed Jack, and then becomes wise to the derailment.

Anderson: (Shaking head while right eye ticks) If you don't come out of there this instant...

Jack: Bwah! Ahh! (Pauses) Did you want me to vomit on you, or on Josie's copy of The Satanic Verses, Bailiff Anderson?

Anderson tilts his head from side to side, acknowledges the emergent nature of Jack's situation, and drops the budding psi-dodecahedron in his right hand onto the floor behind his shoes

Anderson: Well... no. Proceed Mr. Russell, and uh... get well soon. I'll see you back in court momentarily.

Anderson removes one of many 3 by 5 index cards from his left shirt pocket reading "Sorry", and places it below the stall door where Jack presently crouches.

The apology phase of Anderson's 12 step rage group has shown mixed results, and handi-wipe sales at the local drug store have never been higher. Amends were supposed to be expressed face-to-face, but an exception was made to reduce the work load at the dry cleaners until such time as they could hire additional staff.

Anderson exits the restroom.

Prudence re-enters the courtroom while shaking off the residual pain of Garth's remote battery, ranging from superficial to pleasurably invasive.

Judge Edwards sits quietly in his chair admiring Steno-Bot 1982's durability.

Josephine's stomach grumbles for a wookie.

Jacquelyn relaxes in Bailiff Anderson's absence.

Mr. 13 peels ectoplasm scraps from his face that promptly snap back into place, leaving welts.

Jessica is slurping Jane Mary's home-made strawberry gelatin from one of those plastic containers with a burpable, stay-fresh lid.

Five yanks out a new plug of chaw but nearly spits it across the room, chuckling at Jessica's whimpering as banana slices jam her straw.

Prudence: What happened to my Luke warm Vanil-Lea latte, Your Honor?

Josephine's short-term memory is triggered by Prudence.

Josephine: (Crying) I want my wookie... and my Han Solo!

The shouting distracts Mr. 13 from his careful grooming.

Mr 13: Ow!