Author's Note: Thank you very much to the three reviews I got (crickets in the background). They were very nice and much appreciated, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't appriciate a few more. Hint, hint!
Separate Thankyou's: Dom's Lover- my first reviewer ever! Thank you for not flaming me!
wild black fire- Yes, randomness! I love randomness… like when I'm in the middle of saying something and all of a sudden... pink monkeys!!!
The Hobbit Lass- Sorry, but you can't have Neal. I'm thinking of kidnapping him in chapter 3. But Nawat's up for grabs! For the moment anyway…
Disclaimer: I own nothing that you find familiar... or anything that belongs to Tamora Pierce. Whichever comes up first in a law suit.
Chapter 2: The Trial of Page Joren of Stone Mountain
Writer: I've decided our jury and witnesses are pretty much pointless, so when I write everyone in, just imagine a theater-like room with everyone in the audience. People who have something to say can just raise their hands and I'll poof them on stage. At the end, we'll have a hand-raising vote to see if the leech in question is guilty or not guilty. Sooo...
Poof! Everyone (and anyone) appears. Joren is onstage sitting cross-legged and many members of the audience are asleep.
Writer: Hi everyone! Today we get to um, convict this blond-haired, blue-eyed piece of warm cherry pie (gets dreamy look)... maybe with some ice cream on the side. And some nice hot peppermint tea. With whipped cream. No, idiots, not on the tea, on the pie. Sheesh! I'm on a diet alright. Bear with me, here. Anyway, let's get on with the trial. Joren of Stone Mountain, how do you plead?
Joren: Plead bring me some cookies!
Writer: No, no. How do you plead, guilty or not guilty?
Joren: Cookie, cookie!
Writer: Joren, forget the pleading thing! Are you guilty?
Joren: But me wanna cookie!!!
Writer: Fine, I'll give you a cookie if you answer me, okay?
Joren: Okey-dokey, artichokey.
Writer: Are you guilty or not guilty?!
Joren: Cookie!
Writer: No, not cookie, guilty.
Joren: Gookie!
Writer: Good, we're actually progressing. Okay, Joren. Say "guilty."
Joren: Gookie!
Writer: Guilty.
Joren: Gookie!
Writer: Guilty!
Joren: Gookie!
Writer: For the last time, it's guilty!!!
Joren: Gookie cookie!
Writer: Argh! I give up. You can all go home.
Neal: Wait, can I try something?
Writer: Why not!
Neal (to Joren): Jorey, tell Nealy if you're cookie or not cookie.
Joren: Not guilty!
Writer: Thank you Neal. I guess that just shows you how totally stupid some people can be.
Joren: I'm not stupid, it's just mix-it-up day.
Writer (sighs): How many people have heard of mix-it-up day?
Everyone raises their hands.
Writer: Why am I not surprised?
Neal: Mix-it-up day is ndik of amfosu ronuda rehe.
Writer: Huh? Oh, well, whatever. So, who wants to say something.
Joren: Um, I loduw.
Writer: What?
Neal: He said, "I would."
Writer: Thank you. Joren, continue.
Joren: Well, I sumt teprost atht het sgecahr ainsgat me rea ylxetmere—
Writer: Could you please just talk in good ol' English.
Joren: Fine. –ridiculous and came out of that b!!!! Kel's imagination. What happened was this: I was just minding my own business, helping a few of the first years study in the library, when that wench comes up and tries to get me to fight with her. Now, I tried to get her to calm down, but she kept coming at me, so I had to defend myself. Really, that's all I was trying to do and I was lucky to end the fight so soon, otherwise I would have had to restrain her further.
Kel: Yeah right, you son of...
Neal: Kel, there's no reason for you to get worked up about this.
Cleon: Kel, window of my imprisoned heart, he's right.
Kel: You think Joren's right?!?! You s!!!!! piece of !!!! You !!!!!y little girl! I'll knock you're stuffing out! I'll take your intestines and strangle you with 'em. I'll hurt you so bad you'll go home cryin' to your mama. Like a little baby! Wah wah! All the way home!!!
Cleon: I meant that Neal's right.
Kel: Oh. Well, you should explain yourself better, you...
Writer: Okay, okay. Let's stop there. Kel, obviously you don't believe Joren, so tell us your version of the story.
Kel: Well, that...
Writer: Spare us the stupid names and just tell your tale!
Kel: Fine, but someone's gonna go home with a bruised brain after I get through with that...er... person.
Neal: I advise you to tell the true story, Kel. No fudging it. Not even a little bit.
Kel: I'll fudge what I want to fudge! Shut up or I'll fudge your brains out!
Writer: Just go already!
Kel: Okay, okay. I was walking down the halls, minding my own business, when I hear a cry for help coming from the library. (starts talking like a hero) The voice sounded as if its owner was in great distress, so I ran as fast as I could (which is pretty fast) to that vast hall of manuscripts and there I did behold a great and terrible monster, a beast to beat all beasts, a... Well, a blond menace called Joren. He was standing over a poor pathetic young boy...
Owen: Hey! I am not jolly pathetic!
Kel: Shut up brat. You're interrupting me and I don't like it when people interrupt me!
Owen: Jolly sorry!
Kel: Anyway, a poor pathetic young boy. The boy looked to have been throttled and annoyed most sincerely by his enemies, so I could do naught but rush in and stop the mad torture! (grabs Owen viciously) I saved this poor boy from certain death, your honor! This poor, young page... Cut down in his prime!!! (she throws Owen to the floor with a flourish)
Writer: Thank you, Kel. That will be quite enough! Owen, are you okay?
Owen: Yes, jollily okay, Mrs. Writer person.
Writer: Good. So basically, Joren, you were caught beating Owen up. Don't you think that would make you guilty?
Joren: What was I accused of?
Writer: Of beating and abusing a young page, namely Owen.
Joren: Oh, that's my charge?! I thought you were trying me for sending people to kidnap Lalasa.
Writer: No, that technically hasn't happened yet. So you're saying you're guilty?
Joren: Well, not guilty exactly... More like... ummm...
Writer: More like guilty?
Joren: Yeah, yeah. That's the word. I am guilty.
Writer: Okay, Joren of Stone Mountain has decided to plead guilty. Do any of you in the audience wish to argue with him? (dead silence) Thought not. Joren...
Joren: Wait, no! Please. I don't want to die! Somebody please!!!
Writer: You are hereby to be put in The Dungeon of Terror for a period of two months (after which I hope you'll be broken!) and then to be put on probation for the rest of your miserable life!!! Yahahaha!!! (lightning flash)
Joren: No! Please not the Dungeon! (people come to drag him away) No! No!! No!!!
Writer: Well, that scum is gone. Now how about a margarita?
Owen: Wait! What about the other jolly mean bullies who were also jolly terrorizing jolly me?
Writer: What about them?
Owen: Well, it's not jolly fair to punish one of them, but not jolly punish the others.
Kel: He's right! Justice must be served! This poor boy was...
Writer: Yes, yes, Kel. We know the story.
Kel: To let the other purveyors of mischief run free would be a danger to us all! To let the scummiest of scum frighten our young ones would be...
Writer: Kel! We get the picture. Shut up already!
Kel: Did you just tell me to shut up?! Do you have a death wish or something? 'Cause when people tell me to shut up, I get MAD!!!
Writer: Yeah, sure. Whatever.
Cleon: Kel, my pink peach, don't get mad at the poor writer. My dear belladonna...
Kel: Did you just call me a pink peach?! You idiot! You driveling, mindless gorilla! I am not pink! I hate pink! And peaches are soft, like little girlies playing in the flowery fields... You dip!!!!! I'm gonna have to take you outside and teach you a lesson you won't ever be able to forget! Want me to do to you what Alanna did to Ralon? Huh? Wimp!!!
Cleon: My deliciously decadent...
Kel: Decadent?! Like I'm some kind of puff pastry?! Huh? (gasp) Are you calling me fat?!?! Are you?! Cause if you are...
Writer: Cleon, I think you'd better run for it!
Cleon: Thanks for the show. (runs out) Bye!
Kel: That idiot left me! He just left me here at the stage! What does he expect me to do? What should I tell all the guests? That the trial they came to see isn't going to happen because my lovey dovey redhead ran off with some other girl! That wimpy piece of garbage is gonna get pounded tonight!!!
Owen: It's not like it's your jolly wedding Kel. Are we doing anything at this point? I mean, isn't the jolly trial jolly over by now?
Writer: You're right. Everybody, say a jolly... I mean, say a great big goodbye and thank you to your audience out there. You know. The ones sitting in front of their computers, mouses (or is it mice?) ready to click the review button. (looks out of computer) Hey, did you lose weight? Is that a new haircut because you look absolutely...
Kel: Just poof us already, you snorkel eater!
Writer: Snorkel eater?
Kel: Yeah. You can't even come up with good insults any more, so let me go!
Writer: Fine, fine. Everyone poof! (everyone poofs and vanishes) Good bye and good riddance!
