AN: Been a long time since I wrote anything…
Crack. Random. That's the entire plot in a nutshell. Hope you like it. Somewhat inspired by when Ema Skye thinks about Edgeworth as an outdoorsman. (Outdoorsman, indeed…)
Warnings: Teen for mild language (like… two words…) and major beard bashing
Disclaimer: Phoenix Wright is property of Capcom and Geico's little tag phrase is property of… Geico.
Reviews are appreciated. Please be nice. If you think it sucks, please tell why.
I tried my best to proofread and fix any spelling errors, but I'm also human. Hoped I spelled "Kumbayah" right. Please correct me if I didn't.
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Everybody Hates Phoenix
It was quite a sight.
The blue-suited defense with hair that resembled a hedgehog was dabbing at his forehead nervously with a brightly-colored handkerchief while his teenage psychic assistant hummed a tune greatly resembling Kumbayah…
The judge was absent-mindedly checking his beard to make sure no small, fuzzy rodents had become trapped in the tangled mass of gray… (It might interfere with his unequaled judging prowess, heaven forbid…)
And the dashing, handsome, ruffle-clad prosecution was… not there.
The room was deafeningly silent. (Save for Maya's incessant humming.)
The defense was obliviously daydreaming of a neanthropic Edgeworth roasting a puppy on-a-stick over a campfire, when the ireful judge slammed his gavel onto the surface of his podium.
"Mr. Wright!" the old man barked, his beard expanding and contracting as he seethed in anger, "Where on earth is the prosecution?!"
The sudden outburst caused the absent-minded defense to recoil in surprise, almost defacing his cheery assistant with his eccentric, glitter-encrusted pen.
The defense appeared to be deep in thought. Someone in the audience yelled something ill-mannered and lewd about Phoenix, but was quickly escorted from the courtroom.
Phoenix frowned, and then slowly looked up, shocking the court with his answer…
"Huh?"
"I asked: Where in God's name is the prosecution?! Court was supposed to convene forty minutes ago!" the judge spat, holding his beard in place so that bits and pieces of it didn't start flying at innocent bystanders.
The defense paused, pointed his finger in his signature objective stance, then shot back with a witty reply,
"If I had a banana for every time you asked me that……… I'd have a lot of bananas!"
A small nerve twitched in the judge's right temple as he clawed at the tumultuous river of fuzz that clung ominously to his chin. The court did the same in unison. (Minus the colossal amount of beard, of course.)
"Unfortunately, bananas are not allowed in this courtroom, Mr. Wright. Besides, that doesn't solve the fact that the prosecution is still almost fifty minutes late… But guess what, I just saved a lot of money on my car insurance by switching to Geico."
The judge smiled triumphantly but was greeted by blank stares.
"Ahem Anyway… Mr. Wright!" the judge resumed his haughty composure, "I request that you commandeer Mr. Edgeworth and bring him here- NOW!"
The judge pointed a handful of his beard toward the defense in order to emphasis his point.
"Objection! I object to-
But before the spiky-haired defense attorney could continue, in hobbled the enigmatic prosecution.
As soon as Mr. Miles Edgeworth resumed his position in the prosecution's chair, everybody in the room noticed that something was… "Not right."
Indeed, there was what appeared to be an entire tree branch protruding dangerously from his brow.
His shirt was soiled with various animal feces, and his cravat was tangled in with a mass of bird's nests and a green plant speculated to be poison ivy.
"M-Mr. Edgeworth! What is the meaning of this?!" the judge roared, but was quickly cut off when a large, angry beaver hurtled from Mr. Edgeworth's cravat and into the judge's impressive expanse of beard.
The judge quickly pried the snarling beaver from his face as the bailiff wrestled it to the ground and hand-cuffed it to the defense's chair.
The sight of it was somewhat disquieting.
The prosecution turned a dark shade of pink in embarrassment and quickly checked that no other large, angry beavers were hiding deep within the crevices of his cravat.
"I apologize for my incompetence, Your Honor. You see, I had a little… camping… accident…" He mumbled, as he disentangled several handfuls of various water-dwelling wildlife from his usually perfectly-gelled hair.
He promptly plucked the large branch from his face and slammed his titanium briefcase onto the podium, disregarding the fact that it was state owned property, and he was going to have to pay for it.
"The prosecution is ready, Your Honor."
The judge's eye-brows rose in surprise and he banged his gavel again.
"All right… The trial for the defendant, Mr. Daniel Smith will begin- Mr. Wright! Could you please lower your thumb from the air?!"
The court turned their attention to Mr. Phoenix Wright, who was waving his thumb around excitedly parallel to the judge's gleaming head.
The defense grinned childishly and then slowly returned his thumb to its rightful place in his suit pocket.
"Thank you, Mr. Wright. Now, Mr. Edgeworth, do you have any opening-
But before the poor judge could continue, a member of the defense let out a yelp of shock.
"D-diff youf herf thaff?!" cried Maya with a mouth stuffed full of burger.
"Hear what, Miss-
"EARTHQUAKE!" Edgeworth screamed in falsetto, and immediately dove under his desk.
"Actually, no… It was a-
"EARTHQUAKE!" Edgeworth shrieked again, much to the dismay of the gobs of fangirls who had previously been occupying the space underneath his desk.
"Um… No… Just… Somebody was playing gangsta rap in the next room…" Maya muttered and looked into the distance, in an epic, atmospheric sort of way.
"Miss Fey!" the judge thundered, but was looking threateningly at Phoenix, "Please refrain from making comments that are of no concern to the court! For this, the defense will be penalized… sixteen times!"
The judge could barely contain his maniacal laughter and instead coughed strenuously into a monogrammed, pink handkerchief.
"Mr. Edgeworth… You can get out from under your desk now." He said in an almost-comforting tone.
The prosecution let out a sigh of relief and disentangled himself from the fangirls as he slowly stood up, shakily examining the premises to make sure all was well.
"Miles! We love you! We want your babies!" they called, much to Edgeworth's dismay.
"Um… Edgeworth? What the hell was that?" Phoenix asked, sweating profusely.
"Ugh! We don't love you!"
Edgeworth dealt a swift kick to the desk and muttered something along the lines of "stupid Ema Skye and her damn fan club" before going about his normal business.
"Anyway, Mr. Edgeworth, could you please present the first witness?"
Edgeworth, who had been twiddling his thumbs until now, looked slightly confused.
"Um… What witness?" He chuckled nervously.
In an uproarious harmony, the entire courtroom gasped.
"Earthquake?" the prosecution looked alarmed.
"No, no. Nothing like that." The judge reassured him.
Miles Edgeworth? Not prepared? Those words didn't even belong in the same sentence together!
Immediately, everyone started giving Phoenix Wright the evil eye, since he was apparently the only one to cause such a horrible travesty.
Even the large, angry beaver hand-cuffed to Phoenix's chair sensed the resentment towards him, and began to gnaw at his left leg.
"H-hey, why is everyone looking at me like that?" Phoenix asked nervously, pulling a dead sparrow off one of his deadly porcupine-like spikes.
"Well, when in doubt, always blame Phoenix Wright! At least, that's what my grandpa always used to tell me…Well… Before the… coffee-grinder incident…" the judge dabbed at his eyes with the tip of his extensive beard.
Phoenix fought the powerful urge to roll his eyes, and sent Edgeworth a pleading glance, only to discover that he too was dabbing at his eyes (with his own tissue of course, not even the judge's seemingly endless beard could reach the prosecution's chair).
"That… was a wonderful story." Edgeworth proclaimed dramatically. "However, it appears the defense doesn't care about the ill-fated judge, guessing from that hideous grin that's plastered on his face."
With that, several audience members let out loud boos and some even threw various half-eaten food items at the forlorn defense.
"Hey! Look! I got a Samurai dog!" Maya declared happily, but was quickly silenced by Phoenix's death-glare.
"But this is how I always look!" Phoenix snapped, turning his attention back to Edgeworth.
"Unfortunately…" Edgeworth sighed melodramatically.
Suddenly, Detective Gumshoe burst in, waving around a large, manila envelope with the word "Mr. Prosecutor" scribbled on it.
He glared at Phoenix, as well, and then mumbled something to Edgeworth, presenting him with the precious "document." The prosecution cleared his throat.
The suspense was overwhelming. Everyone was on the edge of their seats.
"It appears…" Edgeworth began sullenly, "That I have a minor case of toe fungus."
The courtroom gasped in shock. How? How could this happen to the prosecution? The same name was on everybody's mind…
Phoenix Wright.
"SO?! It's toe fungus! It's not like he has cancer or anyth-
The defense was swiftly quieted when a well-aimed, over-ripe avocado smacked into his face.
"Yes, yes, but of course!" the judge didn't seem to notice that the defense had just gotten cruelly pelted by a moldy vegetable, "You poor man! Having to come here… It's all the stupid, brainless, unfashionable defense's fault, isn't it? Of course. Court will reconvene tomorrow."
He banged his gavel on the desk again. Again.
With that, the prosecution pried his titanium brief case out from inside the desk and walked calmly out of the courtroom; despite the large swarm of bees encircling his presence (must've been the rose bush that appeared to be growing out from under his topcoat). Gumshoe followed soon after, throwing flower petals in wake of Edgeworth's path.
The judge threw the defense a dirty look before shoveling piles of beard out of his lap and disentangling himself from the furniture.
He exited the courtroom, almost tripping on his beard on the way out.
Phoenix looked at his assistant who was covered in mustard, ketchup, and chunks of hot dog from head to toe, and then at his own, "unfashionable" self.
He sighed, wiped the mass of rotten avocado from his brow, and left as well, being very careful to avoid the rabid beaver hand-cuffed to his chair on his way out.
Life sucks when everyone hates you.
.FIN.
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AN (again…): Ah. Poor Phoenix. I'll be nicer to him in my next fic, I promise. Please review. It encourages me to write and not stand on the street corner smoking cigarettes.