Chapter Ten-

The household was quiet as the family slept that evening. In Meg's bedroom, her astral self stood, in courtroom attire, as she prepared to leave to go to work.

Once outside, she looked to the star-flecked night in anticipation. The day ended bittersweetly for her. Although she managed to escape with her life from Ragg's deadly trap and confirmed what was said about him via his own admission of his desire to rule the Earth, her money that she was saving for the mall, a whopping eight dollars, was now gone. A small price to pay for getting rescued, she figured.

She also had to lie about the broken car window, telling her parents that some unknown vandal broke the window while she was inside the Ragg building. It seemed flimsy and disingenuous, but somehow they bought the fib, especially when she offered to help by patching it up with a clever application of Saran Wrap and cellophane tape over the hole.

Somewhere out there, the court was waiting for her. She took a deep breath and blew out some of her tension. She had just gone a few rounds with one malefactor, and now she was going to duke it out with the greatest of their number. Although Meg was still a little nervous about that, she also felt a calm settle deeply within her. Most people manufactured their own fears, she reasoned. She could win. She just had to have a little faith.

With one last look at what few stars she could make out from the neighborhood's light pollution, Meg produced an old-style parasol. She opened it, and raised it high over her head, and, like Mary Poppins herself, rose gently up into the sky. Past the houses and the streetlights, to where the night sky was cooler and darker, and the starry view was, to Meg's satisfaction, much improved.

Meg settled in her bench, going over the notes in her folders silently. She noticed that the general hubbub of the audience had been markedly louder when she arrived, but she didn't turn around to find out why. She was too far too busy. Jennifer and her three compatriots sat next to her, just as anxious as before, but not by much.

They saw Meg handle herself well enough that first day of trial, and even when she stumbled a bit during her cross-examinations, she still maintained her poise and gave the Devil a fair accounting of herself. They were hoping for more of the same now.

Upon the judge's presence, everyone settled down. When he sat in his chair, he looked out onto the audience and spoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a most honored guest here today, as you well know. Please give a warm welcome to the incomparable Mr. Vincent Price."

From a specially roped-off section of the audience area, the once Master of Horror stood graciously amidst the applause that rose like a wave.

After he sat back down, the judge spoke again. "As a treat for us, Mr. Price will recreate this venue into the style of Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas." After this new applause died down, he looked down at the two parties and asked them, "Do the two of you have any objections with these proceedings?"

"Not at all," the Devil said pleasantly. "In fact, it would be like coming home."

"I guess it would be okay," Meg said, not completely sure how to take this.

She remembered watching the movie when she was younger and was enchanted with the spectacle, but didn't think much about it in later years. Now she was to revisit it again, and she didn't know how this would affect her defense.

"Mr. Price, if you would?" the judge asked.

The movie star stood again, but this time raised his hand, and with a snap of his fingers, the courtroom had changed into…

The Nightmare Before Acquittal

The courtroom pillars were fractured and lined,

With patches of mildew and dead ivy vines,

Their light was extinguished, yet light was still there,

Just dimmed most dramatically to lend atmosphere.

Where once there were clouds, and where sunlight once thrived,

A gloomy fog crept, like an evil alive,

The stout, wooden furniture that stood everywhere,

Was a cracked, stained, warped and weather-beaten affair,

Now patrons were changed, but not for the worse,

Here, frightful was beautiful, and normal, the curse,

Every scar was in detail, every scale was adored,

Every claw was unique, and every horn could have gored,

They all ran the foul gamut, from devils to beasts,

From zombies, to ghosts, to all things underneath,

They gibbered and growled, and they groaned in their pleasure,

All to honor dear Vincent, in their highest of measure,

The judge on his bench, now a werewolf in robes,

Took a sniff of the air, and he held up his nose,

Then a growl, through a grin that was toothy and large,

Told all and sundry, that he still was in charge,

Surprising, or no, Old Nick had not changed,

He just stayed the same when the room rearranged,

Yet to keep to the theme, so as not to be blamed,

He put on a pair of some kicking, black frames,

Meg looked at her charges, now pallid and dread,

With their nooses, it appeared they were hung until dead,

With faith in their counselor, they swatted at flies,

And looked `round the courtroom, with dead, staring eyes,

Meg looked at herself through her cracked reading specs,

Clothes were moldy and threadbare, where worms would collect

Yet she was not obtuse, and the clues that they gave,

Meant that she was a zombie, a child of the grave,

It was true, Meg was undead, but was not unnerved,

Since among the deceased, she was better preserved,

She regarded the judge, to defend with a vigor,

While she shook her right arm, to hold back the rigor,

Meg went up to the bench, with an aura of trust,

Once she called up a witness, `twas acquittal or bust,

She was new to the game, but she paid it no mind,

She called her first witness, the thief, Sixty-nine,

Sixty-nine was a naga, an Indian breed,

Of human and snake, with a serpentine weave,

She slinked from the audience, all scaly of skin,

Gave a wink to the zombie, and then was sworn in,

When asked, full name, occupation and where did she bed,

The thief answered flirtatiously, Megan blushed red,

I am Cynthia Roget, a professional thief,

And I live down in Limbo, on North Fagin Street,

Megan thanked her, and prepared to ask questions more bolder,

When she turned, and her left arm came off at the shoulder,

There were titters from jurors, as she picked up her limb,

Then, reattached quickly, she started again,

Miss Roget, when we met, just a few days before,

You said you knew a man I would work for, and more,

That is true, she had said. And when asked for his tag,

She answered quite honestly - Zachary Ragg,

As his name was recorded, Meg questioned again,

Now, Miss Roget, could you tell the court what happened then?

To which Sixty-nine said, without missing a beat,

You mean before or after we got down in the sheets?

Before, growled the counselor, while the room was a-titter,

Then the judge banged his gavel, and the noisemakers dithered,

Then the thief reminisced, saying, Just like a jinn,

Just before he had killed me, I once worked for him,

For my biggest of capers, I literally died,

To foil hosts of angels and heavenly pride,

And it fell in my clutches, this tome I would bear,

A Report of Mortality, now hidden, somewhere,

Meg was satisfied, but in her mind, she did fret,

The report was the key, and it was not found yet,

Though she risked her own life, and the day, she did rue,

She had taken a chance and thought Sixty-nine knew,

With a sly look to Old Nick, Megan then asked,

Could you tell the court, please, which job was the last?

From where she was, Megan thought he-d pitch a fit,

But she saw that his eyebrow just hiked up a bit,

Sixty-nine sat up straight, and before she began,

There came a cacophony, like the wail of the damned,

The Devil stood up to the judge to atone,

And told everyone there that it was just his phone,

That he used it for only the direst of calls,

And this must have been one, since the trial had been stalled,

He asked that he answer it, looking quite cowed,

The judge snarled in annoyance, but had it allowed,

He thanked the judge quickly, then listened, intent,

Then he looked at the thief, all expression was spent,

Forgive me; I know that your name is Roget,

But my call mentions Harriet, have the two of you met?

The woman tensed up. Yes, my mother is she,

Said the Devil, Oh, no worries. She just ceased to be,

From the crowd-murmured worry, Meg angrily stared,

At that cunning Old Nick, and the speech he prepared,

Mother died in a car crash, though her reflexes, fleet,

Saved a dog that had wandered his way in the street,

Poor Sixty-nine howled, and wept to the bone,

Said the Devil; I think I found my new ring tone,

Objection, Your Honor! Meg yelled through the ranks,

It is obvious he badgered her with this sick prank,

I bet you she lives, as my witness will learn,

He tossed her his phone, and it sadly confirmed,

It gave her the victim, the time, and the place,

A feature no cell phone had yet to be graced,

What kind of phone is this, she asked. And to wit,

Said the new feature there was called, TwitterObit,

Then Old Nick turned his worry right back the thief,

And apologized deeply for intruding her grief,

I feel for the loss of your dear, sweet, old mother,

But who knew that she was such an animal lover?

The ball was in her court, as Megan had known,

Should she press for advantage, or compassion be shown?

In her non-beating heart, her old sweetness was found,

Taking witness in hand, she said, You can step down,

Her witness was led back and sat on her throne,

While young zombie Megan just stood there, alone,

With a well-played and well-timed ace up his sleeve,

Meg realized how hard fighting Old Nick could be,

With a heavy sigh, Meg called her next witness over,

And hoped at least this one was stronger than clover,

The girl came, a victim of the gallows that roped her,

I call Jennifer to the stand, Miss Griffin said, sober,

She greeted Jen, in front of all those concerned,

And Jen, being Jen, greeted her back in turn,

Then Megan asked Jennifer about her old life,

About family, and school, and of friends, and the like,

A sole daughter, and my father died when I was small,

Mother worked, but I hardly saw her much at all,

But my nanny, old Millicent, showed me much love,

And my sadness with parents, I soon rose above,

Still at school, friends were rare, oh, they did not last long,

Sadly, most of the kids thought my pleasant mood wrong,

Then one day, a nice man from the school came to me,

And said that he planned to stop this cruelty,

He needed my help; I knew not the result,

That one day, our pet project, would become his new cult,

So, after much talking, I gave my consent,

Never knowing how much of myself I had lent,

I know he did wrong now, and we did no better,

But I like to think maybe his true heart unfettered,

That in spite of the fact of his base treachery,

He saw children who needed help, children like me,

It was then, Jen was seen in a whole different light,

Meg never knew Jen lived the same social plight,

Although home life, dissimilar, the fact had remained,

Each girl felt connected, a sister of pain,

No further questions, said Meg, her heart had been wrenched,

As she left her dear friend, and walked back to her bench,

The Devil was next, so as sweet as could be,

Walked up to young Jennifer, and then asked of she,

Can I call you Jennifer? I hope you do not mind,

Not at all, said of Jennifer, sweetly in kind,

Now I have some questions, he said. Let us start,

With why you seem so loving, yet have little heart?

You said that your mother worked hard every day,

Yet you still moaned you had no one else whom to play,

Though you smile very bright, your mind is as dim as a tomb,

You could not have fathomed? She works hard for you!

Poor Jen looked confused, she spoke truth as it came,

But her mom was the last one she wanted to blame,

Her mind raced like squirrels, she needed new tact,

To protect guilt-less words from the Devil-s attack,

She squared up her shoulders, said, Yes, I know, but-

Old Nick paid her no mind, he would just interrupt,

And please tell us how well you knew of your nanny,

Was she wicked of thought? Did she touch your warm fanny?

Now Jennifer worried, she loved Millicent,

But Scratch took affection, made it twisted and bent,

Meg had warned her before, He will make you retract,

All your guilt-less words, from the Devil-s attack,

She was never like that! She yelled out from her stage,

She, in all of her life, never felt such a rage,

Said the Devil, looking innocent, and hardly to blame,

Well, I could have used some one like that. What a shame.

Meg was fearing for Jennifer. She began to be tense,

She stood up and straightened, to be her defense,

It may have lacked wit, or lacked much elegance,

But she cried out, Objection, Your Honor! Relevance?

The judge snarled in agreement, and bristled his hair,

And asked him, Is all of this leading somewhere?

Your Honor, he said. Please do forgive me,

I was headhunting prospects in this bad economy,

He returned to his questioning, casual and cool,

Saying, You told us that you had no friends in school,

Because of your character, it shone like the sun,

But did you ever stop to think, that you were worthy to shun?

That perhaps these cool people were cool for a reason,

Your niceness was off-putting, your pleasantness, treason,

But it was obvious you could not see things their way,

Did you know smiling too much leads to tooth decay?

Or that maybe they could not trust those things too cuddly,

The girls who shant put out, with attitude, bubbly,

The poor girl was heartbroken, did not know what to say,

True, she did ponder that sometimes, from day to day,

She would come home from school, her mind weighed down with loss,

Before brainwashing freed her from all of those thoughts,

Now they came with a vengence, she felt small in the room,

Old Nick opened the floodgates, and her heart was consumed,

She supposed such a question would have had to have been asked,

So she said, But why would they think so ill of that?

The Devil leaned close, just to bring home his rule,

Why, because Miss Jennifer, being nice just ain-t cool,

Meg watched her in silence, her sadness, ill-hid,

Jen looked more like a zombie than Meg ever did,

But she did not yell now, and she never did cry,

But for now, she felt even more dead than alive.