Ode to Trial
Disclaimer: I do not own Hogan's Heroes. They belong to CBS, Paramount Pictures and possibly Bing Crosby Productions. I do not own Night Court. They belong to some corporation. I do not own Star Trek. That belongs to some corporation. I do not own any other fictional characters from copyrighted materials. I do not claim creative license for other fanfiction authors and their creations. I do not even claim the series of Fanfic Court. All that I own is myself, this poem and my creations.
A/N: After seeing some pieces that went along with the first fan fic court series I wanted to do something for this one. So here comes my spin on things this time around. I hope it is taken in fun. My apologies if any offense is taken.
'Twas a thunderous day of pouring rain and spewing lightning,
As deep in Germany an author wrote,
A girl called Lizzie typed away,
On her faithful old computer she spun a tale.
And when the tale had come to an end,
Send it she did to a friend.
But as she hit the button,
Alas! A crash of thunder,
The computer failed.
And far in the past,
In the midst of the Second World War,
A certain POW camp lay under the sun.
Headaches struck like thunder,
All around the camp did cry,
Prisoners and guards stopped and froze
As memories of the past did lay siege
To their poor straining minds.
Of injuries and death to all,
Of the bizarre and strange,
From ghosts to devils,
Cruel Gestapo to horrible violins,
Of love between men,
Of vampires and werewolves oh my,
Of weddings and affairs,
Bombings to spying,
Before the dark of war,
After the war had faded,
And time travel and strange visitors,
This and more swamped the poor, poor men.
So decided a Colonel and his men,
To hold a trial,
To make those responsible,
Pay for their crimes
As they had once before.
But this time victory would belong to them.
It became so when that tale, nay the letter,
Of one person so arrive,
Write back they did,
To a certain Lizzie,
Who thought t'was a joke,
And asked to leave off ever so kindly.
Far in the future of a universe,
Space ship travelers learnt of the events,
And decided to aid,
Those prisoners of a distant war,
By finding those heinous criminals,
And thus began Fan Fiction Court the Second.
A judge and courtroom was needed,
So called upon a Judge named Stone,
And his loyal Baliff Bull,
To preside over the trial.
A Federation Commander named Riker chose to prosecute,
As he had before,
But alas no Perry Mason could be found to defend,
So a Major Winchester of the 4077th M*A*S*H,
Did arrive.
The jury of fictional creations, the gallery full of spectators,
All had arrived.
But for the reason,
Those dreaded terrible fan fiction writers!
From city to countryside,
Teenagers to Adults,
From Europe to North America,
Even to Australia's distant shores,
Across land and sea of the world,
Those people did reside.
A call rose up,
In many ways it arrived,
From telegrams of the past,
To letters in the post,
To owls and strange beings of light,
It did not matter how,
But the letter did cry for them to pay.
Some thought a joke,
Others cast it aside in reams of trash,
And still many cried.
For though they thought a joke,
Was played upon them,
Fear crept inside their minds,
Had the day of reckoning come?
Packed suitcases bulging with clothes,
They fled over hill and dale and sea,
To airports in distant isles,
To deserts remote,
To dirty motels,
To studies where resided their guns.
But for naught their trips did prove,
As those damnable future people,
Found them in flashes of light.
One way or another, the poor authors arrived.
Some dumped on their behinds,
Others limped inside,
Still others meekly hid in back rows hiding in a crowd.
Now it could all begin,
And glee filled the breasts of men,
As the writers squirmed on the stand.
Though many called lawyers
Of different times and places,
They all lived in fear,
Of the punishment,
That did await.
Some found guilty,
And dragged away,
By cops and agents,
To fictional jails,
And holding cells.
Still others cast asunder,
The seams of realities,
With spells and Looney Tunes,
And riots between dopplegangers.
A few notable women,
Used their charm and wits,
To beg a Colonel for pardon,
With evidence to twist his arm,
Or be set upon by jealous women.
Free did those authors dance,
And some departed for home,
While others stayed to lend their support.
Wild and twisting was the testimony,
Of crimes to fictional characters,
Some cried,
Some glared,
Some spit,
Some lost their wit.
And others seemed unconcerned,
Cheerfully rattling on,
Unknowing of the mutters,
Or threats of death.
From original characters with shadowed pasts,
To crazy SS with guns,
And dueling medieval teenagers,
Who nearly destroyed all.
From the fawning fans,
And wisdom of age,
To the rudeness of youth,
Who seemed to care not.
Whether author stayed in court,
Or went to jail,
Or even kidnapped by darker forces,
Such has the trial gone.
Who doth know,
How our intrepid tale shall end,
When still the court continues,
From the heat of July,
To chill of near March.
Can you hear the heralds cry?
Shall Guilt be Found?
Or shall Innocence Prevail?
A/N: So what do you think? Are we guilty? Or are we innocent? Oh by the way I'm not using any particular style of poetry here. Not knowing anyway. I'm just writing in short phrases and using whatever words came to mind. So I guess I'm free styling. Anyway hope you enjoyed it! It's just a fun little something to read in your free time. If you liked it you can review. If not well that's okay you can still review. Adios mis amigos!