To recap: 80sarcades is in trouble. In a surprise courtroom move, the wonderfully good-looking - but modest - author has been blindsided by a bombshell from Hogan and Company. Will he overcome the daunting odds and win the case? For that matter, will he be able to mount a successful defense? And really: why am I asking you? On with the story!
"Your Honor," Hochstettter began, "we call 80sarcades to the stand."
With a heavy heart, I rose from the chair and made my way to the witness stand. As I did so, a part of my mind reviewed the events of the last few minutes. Silently, I grimaced again.
How could it get any worse?
In a surprise move - one that I honestly didn't see coming - the Boys from Barracks Two summoned me to FanFiction court and gave me a one-two punch. Right now, my case is reeling against the ropes. There's a fair-to-better chance that the mob in the gallery will grab me outright and string me from the nearest tree.
And the worst thing of all: I can't leave to bet on myself! The odds of me winning must be astronomical right about now!
Fortunately, I have Major Wolfgang Hochstetter as my attorney. I'm supremely confident that the Gestapo officer will help me win my case. Then again, if all else fails I can throw him to the bloodthirsty crowd as I make my escape.
However, right now I need to tell my side of the story. I sat down in the witness chair and glared at the source of my predicament. Colonel Hogan, my prosecutor - or should it be persecutor? - narrowed his eyes back at me. His men, sitting in the gallery, were the picture of composed hate.
In retrospect, I could hardly blame them. In a way, I tortured them and let Hochstetter have his field day. On the other hand, I'm not about to give up, either.
After all, this case is only half over. And I so hate to lose…
"Your move, Counselor," Judge Stone said, motioning towards Hochstetter.
"Thank you, Your Honor," the Gestapo Major said as he swaggered over towards me. "Now, 80sarcades," he began, almost sneering my name, "did you write the story, 'Prisoners of Honor?"
"Yes, I did," I replied.
"And why did you write it?" he asked.
I cocked my head as in thought. "Basically, it was a no-win scenario," I explained. "Look at the show, for instance. Colonel Hogan always comes up with a plan to get one over on the bad guys. For instance, there's an episode of Hogan's Heroes where Newkirk brings in this lady that just happened to be a member of the Gestapo. Fortunately, the Colonel was able to make her look like a fool when she couldn't find the tunnel entrance in the barracks."
"Yes, I remember that particular episode," the Major growled; obviously, he didn't like to be reminded about it. Neither did Newkirk, judging by the looks his bunkmates were giving him. "Let's talk about the no-win scenario," he went on. "Tell me how you planned it out."
"Like I said," I continued, "in the episodes - and in fanfiction, mostly - the Heroes always escape. Sure, they might be hurt but they always come out all right in the end." I paused, then went on. "That's what I did differently, you know," I explained. "I put them in a situation where they couldn't win. A realistic case scenario, with a twist."
"With a twist?" Newkirk yelled incredulously, rising to his feet in anger. "You twisted our lives, you bloody-"
"Newkirk!" Hogan sharply yelled, twisting around in his seat. The one-word rebuke caused the Corporal to falter into silence while his commanding officer glared at him. He sat down, clearly embarrassed.
"And how did the story end?" Hochstetter continued, ignoring the interruption.
"Well, the Heroes die, Hogan gets shot, despite an exchange offer..."
I saw the Colonel's knuckles turn bone white as his fists tightened.
"...and then the secondary character ::spoiler:: killed ::spoiler::, proving that Hogan's death wasn't in vain."
"Objection!" Hogan called. "The defendant is speaking nonsense."
"Let the record show that my client used a spoiler alert in order not to ruin the story for new readers," the Major cooly replied. "Really, Hogan, I never thought you were the type to know the end to a good book..."
"That, of course, coming from someone that burned books," Hogan shot back. "At least I like to read books to find out how they end."
"Those books," Hochstetter said, his harsh voice rising, "were old textbooks! I save my novels for something better than that!"
"Yeah, sure," Hogan sarcastically replied. "Like your fireplace, perhaps?"
"Gentlemen, Gentlemen," Judge Stone said, rapping his gavel, "this is all so fascinating, but back to the case. Objection overruled. Mr. Hochstetter?"
"Thank you, Your Honor," the Major said, shooting Hogan an evil look. "Now then, 80sarcades, tell me: did you depict any torture scenes in this story, or in any of your other stories?"
"Only for Hochstetter's Stalag," I answered truthfully. "Other than that, no, sir."
It's true, I reflected: the eyes are the windows to the soul. Judging by my attorney's, being drawn-and-quartered would be the least of my worries.
"Have you ever inflicted any deliberate pain on any of your characters, other than required by the story?" the Major snarled through his teeth.
"No, sir," I repeated.
"Would you ever do so, if given the chance?"
"Well, except for a certain unnamed Gestapo Major…" My mouth paused for a moment as I mulled the question. "No," I finally replied. "No sir, I wouldn't."
I casually smiled even as Hochstetter turned a perfect shade of red rage. With a curt motion, he turned and walked back to his table and sat down.
"Your witness," he sourly told Hogan. The Colonel, meanwhile, gazed at me thoughtfully before he looked at the Judge.
"Your Honor," he asked, "Permission to treat the witness as hostile?"
The Judge raised an eyebrow. "Usually, you do that with your own witness," he commented, clearly amused. "However, why not? Go ahead."
Before the Colonel could start, I beat him to the punch.
"Finally!" I exclaimed happily. "I'm a hostile witness!" With that, I reached into my jacket and pulled a large chainsaw from the magically-enhanced pocket. The pull on the cord, as well as the sound of the engine, was smooth as silk; I gripped the trigger and smiled as the saw revved up to a full scream. The blade, meanwhile, easily sliced through the wood railings of the witness stand. As the debris crashed to the floor, I eyed the terror-filled faces in the gallery. The sound of the powerful saw echoed through the courtroom as I stood, prepared to strike...
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Judge Stone yelled. I released the trigger, letting the saw idle.
"What do you mean, Judge?" I asked casually. "You said I was a hostile witness..."
"That means he can use a more aggressive line of questioning, you moron!" Harold Stone said, unfazed by my new instrument of destruction. "And just where did you get that thing, anyway?"
"Out of my pocket, of course!" I replied. With a deft motion, I killed the motor and held up the saw to a now-relieved gallery.
"And here it is!" I exclaimed loudly. "The Jinzle Rocketsaw! Yes, this baby packs quite the punch with 50cc's of engine power securely packed in a stylish shell! As you've already seen, he composite titanium/nicolum chain slices easily through almost everything! Wood, metal, and even hardened steel are no match for the Jinzle Rocketsaw!" As I rotated the saw around, I could hear several murmurs of appreciation from the studio audience.
"Yes, sir," I shouted, "this saw does it all! Additionally, a new engine design reduces carbon emissions up to 50 percent over regular gas chainsaws while still providing the same amount of power!"
"So," I cheerfully went on, "the next time you need help with that do-it-yourself project in the back yard or you're carving up your significant others' car when that all-important relationship goes sour, trust the Jinzle Rocketsaw!" I finished dramatically. "It won't let you down!"
"What colors does it come in?" someone called out.
"A wide assortment!" I happily promised. "Among them red, blue, and even turquoise. The basic model is available for $199.95 on Acme dot com; the shipping is free, but the colors are an extra-"
"Objection!" Colonel Hogan finally called out. "The defendant is peddling his products to the court! Plus, he can't even do a decent imitation of Billy Mays!"
"Sustained," the Judge agreed. He then looked over toward his bailiffs. "Roz? You want to take the chainsaw into custody?" he ordered.
I surrendered the chainsaw without a fight and watched as the female bailiff carted it away. For some reason, I had the strange notion that it would soon somehow disappear from the evidence room and find a place in her home. Then again, I might have just been dreaming that sadistic smile she was wearing. Regardless, I returned to the matter at hand.
Colonel Hogan stood up from his table and eyed me in silence for a moment.
"You're a man," he said finally.
Instantly, Major Hochstetter was on his feet. "Objection!" he yelled. "The prosecutor is questioning my client's sexuality!"
The gallery burst into laughter even as Judge Stone halfheartedly banged his gavel to quiet things. Meanwhile, I dropped my head to my chest and shook it rather sadly before I looked back up and speared my attorney with a hard glare. "Did you just have to say that?" I moaned. "My parents could be reading this! Thanks a lot!"
Hochstetter, for his part, had the good sense to look embarrassed. But I wasn't through with him yet.
"And furthermore," I continued, "you should both know I'm a man! Especially you, Major! After all, you're the one that changed me into a woman. Twice, in fact!"
"He changed you into a woman?" the Judge asked disbelievingly.
"Yeah, and I was a gorgeous one too, if I say so myself," I explained. "Long and completely different story, Judge. And as for you," I went on, fixing my eyes on the prosecutor, "here's a hot tip: women have these things called breasts-"
"You're a man," Hogan stated, ignoring my tirade as he began his cross-examination. "A man who could be expected to show some sort of sympathy for his fellow men." He paused dramatically as he strode up to the witness stand, a calculating look in his eye. "Instead," he continued, "you've proven to be as cruel as the other female authors when it comes to writing stories. Cold, perhaps. Even impassionate. How would you respond to that?"
"Oh, I wouldn't say all of the women on fanfiction dot net are cold and impassionate," I coolly replied before shifting my eyes to the courtroom door behind Hogan. "Hey, Denise!" I called out loudly as I waved my right hand. "How's it going?"
The Colonel's eyes took on a crazed - almost lustful - gleam as he turned towards the nonexistent newcomer with the other spectators. The dreamy smile that accompanied it lasted only a few seconds until he realized that he'd been had. His angry eyes snapped back to mine as I smiled serenely
Inwardly, I was impressed. Just what did ColHogan do to Colonel Hogan? I wondered admiringly. And really: is it printable?
Surprisingly, the man picked up where he left off. Which was just as well; I don't think strangling me in open court would have helped his case.
"Let's revisit your earlier testimony," he said. "You said that you've never deliberately tortured any of your characters. Or caused them any pain, beyond required by the story."
"That's right," I confirmed. Hogan turned and walked to a specific section of the gallery before pointing to an elderly man sitting in the second row.
"Then, for the record, explain the character of Old Kinch from the story, 'The Hogan Zone: The Key of Time'," he demanded. "You might not have tortured him, but you caused the poor man untold amounts of pain!"
"Oh, come on!" I spat. "You know how his story turns out! It has a happy ending!"
"Maddie...oh Maddie..." the old black man whispered, causing more than several looks of sympathy from the audience even as his younger version stepped over to console him. "No one gives a damn..." he moaned.
"A happy ending?" Hogan queried, looking at me accusingly. "The man is clearly in agony! Unless you can prove otherwise..." he finished, his voice trailing off as he stepped closer "But you can't, can you? Even though you were warned to bring evidence to prove your innocence-"
"Yeah, I could have," I snarled, interrupting hypocritical Hogan. "If Newkirk hadn't taken my book of stories-"
"Move to strike the last sentence, Your Honor!" Hogan interjected. "The defendant is accusing one of my men of a crime!"
"Do you have any evidence of this?" the Judge asked me.
"Nope, sure don't," I responded dejectedly. "Just a feeling. A strong one."
"Sustained," Judge Stone ordered. "Continue, Counselor."
"A final point," Hogan told me. "Did you ever consider the effect our deaths would have on the other authors? How they would feel? Or did you just write the story without considering them?"
"At first, I just wrote it," I admitted sadly. "But then, I received reviews that told me that some people didn't like the thought of the Heroes losing."
"Such as the PM you received from the wonderfully talented ColHogan, perhaps?" the real Hogan said. I looked up, startled: how did he know about that? Oh, right. Strangely, I have to admire the Colonel on that point: it looks like ColHogan wasn't the only one that was skillful at obtaining information. Among other things.
"Yeah," I admitted. "By then, it was too late to stop the story. To be honest, I didn't think about the whole thing then. Later on, however, when everything was said and done..." A tear, quickly joined by several of its brothers, rolled down my cheek as I relived the story. "...I began to question myself. To really think about what I had truly done." A stifled sob escaped my lips as I forced myself to go on.
"I thought about all the horrible things I had done to the Heroes," I choked out. "I had never heard of FanFiction Court then; never understood that the characters had true feelings. But now," I sobbed, "I understand that. I understand everything! I shouldn't have done what I did, but I did it out of ignorance! OH GOD! I'LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN! I SWEAR IT! I SWEAR..." My voice broke off as I slumped in my chair, sobbing uncontrollably.
Unfortunately, when I peeked back up, the courtroom was unmoved.
"Objection, your Honor," Hogan calmly announced.
"And that is?" the Judge asked.
"The defendant cries better as a woman than as a man," he finished, smugly smiling at me.
"And can you blame me?" I cried. "You're a man, too! You should know we're emotionally handicapped! It takes a while-"
"No further questions," the Colonel interrupted. Even my lawyer looked disgusted, but then again he's a Gestapo henchman. Like they ever cry. At least he had the good sense to ask a question.
"Redirect, Your Honor," the Major announced. "How did you feel after you wrote this story?"
"Awful," I said. "Just awful..."
"No further questions," he said. With a quick motion, he sat down.
"The witness is excused," the Judge announced. I left the stand and walked back to the defense table. As I did so, I felt a buzzing from my right pocket; a text message on my iPhone screen said only one thing:
15 minutes.
Major Hochstetter looked curiously at me as I sat down. Then again, I couldn't blame him: he was probably wondering what I was up to. I guess the smirk on my face gave it away.
"Listen," I whispered, leaning closer to him, "I need to stall things for about fifteen minutes. I've got some ideas, but I need you to introduce me."
"Will it allow you to avoid the lynch mob so I can kill you myself?" Hochstetter snarled.
"Sure will," I said happily.
"If there are no further objections," the Judge began, looking at both tables, "I'm ready to render my verdict-"
"Your Honor," the Major interrupted, rising to his feet, "my client has a few words to say in his defense."
"Objection!" Hogan called out. "The defendant has already had his time on the stand. If we could move forward and end this agony once and for all-"
"I can't see the harm in letting him talk, Counsel," the Judge said, shrugging off the Colonel's argument before he looked at me. "Make it brief."
"Thank you, Your Honor," I said, rising to my feet. "First, I'd like to offer testimony in favor of Sgt. Moffitt, a fellow author." For some reason, I could hear a low growling coming from Hochstetter's throat. Couldn't imagine why.
"Sgt. Moffitt..." the Judge mused, looking at Mac. "That name sounds familiar. Mac?"
The court clerk nodded. "She's already in jail, Your Honor," Mac said; Stone nodded in recognition as I gasped out loud.
"You have to be kidding me!" I blurted out. "Right?"
"Afraid not," Mac replied. "They came in and took her away last week."
"So that explains..." I grabbed my iPhone and looked through the messages section. "Aha!" I exclaimed.
"Explains what, Mr. Arcades?" the Judge inquired.
"Oh, this strange PM I got about a week ago," I replied, then read from the screen. "Help me! Help me! I'm being taken off to jail by the hunks of-" I looked up. "The message stopped there, Your Honor," I told him. "Frankly, I thought it was some kind of error message but now I'm starting to see it in a more sinister light." I put the phone back in my pocket before I looked resolutely at the Judge.
"Regardless, that lady is nothing more than a fine upstanding person and author," I exclaimed angrily. "I'm both appalled and outraged that this travesty of justice could have happened, and I will spare no effort to..." My final words faded away as I looked towards Mac.
"By the way," I asked, "Who took her in? Federal? State? Hopefully bribable local officials?"
"None of them," he said. "The folks from NCIS took her in."
"NCIS!" I blurted. "Naval Criminal Investigative Service? The Navy?" my voice said, shocked. My hands quickly took a flag pin from the magic pocket before securing the emblem to the lapel. "She did something to this country? To the United States of America?"
"Well, it wasn't like that..." Mac reluctantly said. Hogan and the spectators, meanwhile, watched curiously as I walked around and to the front of the table.
"I recant my earlier testimony, Your Honor," I spat. "Let the woman rot in jail. 'Al-Qaeda' Moffitt has finally got to pay for her crimes! By the way, if I turn state's evidence and tell you about the nuclear bomb she was cooking up in her kitchen, can I get her car?"
"Objection!" Hogan roared. "The defendant is stalling!"
"And perhaps you're covering for her," I countered, paranoia-style. "What's your role in all of this?"
Before Hogan could respond, Judge Stone banged his gavel. "Enough!" he angrily ordered.
Unfazed, I pulled out my iPhone and accessed my email. The Judge's annoyance turned to frustrated confusion as my thumbs quickly rattled off a message. With a smile, I pressed the 'send' key to start the missive on its way.
"Just what are you doing now?" he demanded. I looked up at the young magistrate and smiled.
"Just sending some mail, your honor…"
Meanwhile, back in reality…
No more road trips!
Sgt. Moffitt leaned back in her chair and sighed. For a moment, she seriously considered pouring herself a glass of Scotch. After all she had gone through…
And its only six a.m.! she fumed. Riding with Murphy Brown was a nightmare! Then my purse was stolen, I had to change that flat tire - which wasn't bad, except my passenger wouldn't shut up! - and I have to be at work in two hours!
What else could possibly go wrong?
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. With a groan, Sgt. Moffitt rose out of her chair and walked to the recently-replaced front door. A quick glance outside the window revealed…
Oh, my God! It's Major Hochstetter!
As she watched, the Gestapo Major smiled before his hand held up a white china plate. To her delight, it was filled with…
Cookies! she delightedly thought. That proves it! He's not mad at me after all!
Sgt. Moffitt hurriedly unlatched the deadbolt with her hands before swinging the door open. As she did so, her mind belatedly remembered a crucial detail.
Wait a minute, she thought. The Major never smiles…
That was as far as she got before black-suited figures rushed out of nowhere and into her house. One of the mysterious intruders knocked her to the ground and kept her face down before applying handcuffs to her wrists. Dimly, Sgt. Moffitt heard shouts of 'Clear!' echo through her home.
"All clear, sir," a man's voice said.
"About time," another voice - this one very familiar - snarled. With a start, Sgt. Moffitt recognized the voice of Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, NCIS.
"What's going on?" she demanded, flexing her cuffed wrists. "And get these things off of me!"
"Not anytime soon, Moffitt," Tony said condescendingly. "You had us going with that little act you were putting on!"
"What act?" Sgt. Moffitt shouted. "I'm innocent!"
"Sure you are," a new voice intruded. "Let her up." With ease, Tony rolled his charge over before propping her up against a nearby wall. The prisoner found herself facing Leroy Gibbs, the head of the team. "That was before we found out you were a terrorist," the former Marine Gunnery Sergeant growled. "What made you turn to Al-Qaeda?"
"Couldn't be the money, judging by this place…" Tony observed sarcastically. Moffitt was about to tell him off when aother voice popped up.
"Sirs?" the man called. "You might want to take a look at this…" Without a further word, the two men walked into the kitchen. Sgt. Moffitt silently fumed under the watchful eye of several other NCIS agents before DiNozzo walked back into the foyer. The Special Agent jerked Moffitt up onto her feet before leading her into the kitchen.
"You might want to start with the plutonium core we found in your refrigerator," Tony remarked smugly. "Right behind the lettuce! You keep everything nice and neat, don't you?"
Moffitt looked on disbelievingly as a yellow case was opened up. Inside, a ball of silvery material lay cradled in foam rubber. A Geiger counter, meanwhile, ticked away in musical madness before the senior agent quickly closed the shielded case.
"Get NEST in here! Now!" he ordered. Tony deftly deflected the request towards McGeek while his prisoner continued to stare at the yellow case.
"But that's…I've never seen that before!" Moffitt weakly protested, still in shock. DiNozzo snorted once before he held up several pictures.
"And you've never seen these before, either, huh?," he noted, sarcasm in his tone. "Photos of you and Osama Bin Laden?"
"NO!" she finally screamed, her anger letting loose. "THAT'S NOT ME! AND MY HAIR LOOKS BETTER THAN THAT!" The Special Agent ignored her protests as he held up another photograph to her eyes
"Course, I like the one of you holding this shoulder-fired missile. Homeland Security is really going to love you for that one…"
"I've been framed!" Moffitt shouted plaintively. "You have to believe me! I've never seen any of this stuff before!"
"Doesn't matter now," Gibbs snarled. "Director Vance wanted us to take you in on that Hogan's Heroes case. And now…" He sighed once before he sadly looked at Moffitt. "Where did you go wrong?" he wondered aloud before he nodded towards Tony. "Get her out of here," he ordered.
"Wait!" Moffitt shouted as Tony's firm grip led her away. "I'm innocent! Murphy Brown can prove I wasn't here last night! Someone planted all of this stuff on me! Please!"
DiNozzo merely laughed out loud as he dragged his charge to the front of the house. "Murphy Brown," he scoffed, shaking his head. "You want us to track down a fictional character to prove your innocence? I've got better things to do with my time, sweetie." Moffitt groaned in utter annoyance before her eyes spotted something else.
"And who is that?" she demanded as the imposter Hochstetter came into view. "You knew I'd open the door for him! That's a dirty trick!"
"It worked, didn't it?" Tony countered. His hand reached out to grab one of the cookies off of the nearby plate before he popped one into his mouth. "Meet Manny Carlson," he said. "Best impersonator out there. And the cookies…" With his free hand Tony snatched the rest of the edible discs, save for one, off of the plate and into a jacket pocket.
He then smiled at Sgt. Moffitt before he bit into the solitary cookie. "Chocolate chip. With walnuts, too," he mumbled between bites. "My favorite. Oh, and you have the right to remain silent…"
Moffitt screamed in frustration before she was thrown into the back of a squad car and taken away.
Back in the courtroom…
"Now, is there anything else you would like to say before I pronounce the verdict?" the Judge asked.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury..." I smoothly began, continuing to stall for time. Bull looked at Roz in confusion.
"What jury?" he asked. "I don't think we've had one since the pilot episode..."
"Never mind, Bull," his coworker replied. "I think this guy is on a roll."
Hogan, meanwhile, was fit to be tied. The Judge, conversely, was amused as I continued my closing argument.
"...it seems clear that the prosecutor and his men-" I gestured to the gallery and the Allied personnel there "-clearly feel that they've been wronged in some way, form or fashion..."
As I looked their way, Newkirk held up a hangman's noose and pointed to me while mouthing the word 'you.' I shuddered. "Tough crowd," I muttered before pressing on.
"This case, of course, illustrates what is wrong with fiction today," I continued. "There is no sadder spectacle for an author to be hauled into court and accused of mistreating characters, especially those not their own. When it comes down to it, there is but only one person that is ultimately responsible for this deplorable state of affairs."
I paused momentarily, feeling the silence. Gotcha now...
"One person." I said, holding my index finger in the air as I stared down the courtroom. "Someone who, in hindsight, could have - nay, should have!" I thundered, slapping my right hand against the prosecutor's table, causing several people to jump, "...done the right thing. And the name of that person, of course, is..."
The whole courtroom - Colonel Hogan included - watched raptly as they hung on my every word. The quiet prevailed for a long moment as I
continued my dramatic pause before finally letting loose the horrendous words:
...Rose. DeWitt. Bukater. Dawson," I stated, enunciating each single word with perfect clarity.
Half of the courtroom looked puzzled. The other half stared at me in disbelief as I went on.
"When she found herself on that board after the Titanic sank, Rose could have moved her fat butt over and let her lover on," I said calmly. "Had she done so, Jack Dawson would be alive today. Well, he'd probably be dead," my voice allowed, "and he's fictional to boot, but he'd probably be alive. And that, my friends, is the crux of this whole argument-"
Several raps of the ever-present gavel abruptly silenced my speech.
"I'm not sure where you're going with this, Mr. Arcades," the Judge said, "but if you say any more, I'll find you in contempt."
"Contempt?" I said, shocked. "You would hold the truth in contempt? By God, sir! What kind of Judge are you?"
"The kind that will throw you in holding," Harry Stone replied, rapping his wood gavel again. "You're in contempt! Now sit down!"
"Never!" I shouted. "You can't hold the truth in contempt, for the truth shall set me free!"
The Judge, meanwhile, motioned to Bull to take me into custody. Fortunately, I was able to duck past the gentle giant before gracefully leaping onto the defense table. For once, the Major's face was etched in fear as he looked up at me; clearly, he was thinking that I was insane. Well, more so than usual.
The tall bailiff, meanwhile, made no move to get me off the table even as he inched closer to the front edge. Meanwhile, Roz covered the other side of the table, potentially blocking my escape.
Not that I had any such intentions of doing so, of course. Instead, I stared at my Allied opponent with hooded eyes.
"You can't suppress the truth, Hogan, because you can't handle the truth!" I yelled, stabbing my finger towards him. "And the truth is-"
Just then, the courtroom doors swung open to reveal...
My witnesses! I thought, letting a long breath of relief escape my tired lips. About bloody time!
A long stream of assorted uniformed men marched through the opening and into the gallery before taking their seats. All of them stared at Hogan and his men with familiar expressions of annoyance. For the first time, my persecutors looked nervous. As they should be.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls," I boomed in my showman's voice. "Children of all ages! May I present the Stalag Thirteen Dream Team!" I pointed to a segment of the courtroom where a group of men sat. "Up first! Colonels Hogan! Sergeants Kinchloe! Corporals Newkirk…"
I theatrically leaned in the direction of the prosecution table, put my open right hand to my mouth, and loudly whispered, "You do know that if 's' is added to the end of a noun it means more than one, right? Just checking..." The original Colonel Hogan, his face a mask of rage, refused to respond to my taunting as I went on with the performance.
"Corporals Lebeau!" I bellowed. "And, last but not least, Sergeants Carter!" I turned back to the bench and a equally-stunned Judge Stone. And the poor man thought he had an open and shut case, too…
"Your Honor," I announced respectfully, "may I present my witnesses for the defense! Specifically, every character mentioned in my stories! Not just the ones for Prisoners of Honor…"
To be continued...