My Court Experience

My most recent venture into supplication was at traffic court today. You see, a few months ago, a mysterious, evil force seized my leg and pressed it down on the accelerator as the light was turning red. At that same time, a mother was pushing a baby carriage along the crosswalk. Which I didn't care about. But then I saw that she had an adorable Golden Retriever with her, so I jerked the wheel right, jumped the curb and flipped over right before I crashed into a produce stand that came out of nowhere, presumably put there by the same evil force, or his less creative, Hollywood brother.

The police officer was unperturbed by the destroyed produce stand or the flying chickens that burst out of it, but she was furious when, as my car was flying upside down in the air, she saw that I hadn't washed the grease-smeared undercarriage in several years. She gave me a ticket for dirty driving and a summons for a court date, today.

I was nervous about appearing before the judge. In the preamble, she said we could plead one of three ways: not guilty, guilty, and guilty with an explanation. I did not hear "I didn't do it". This threw me off my game plan. I evaluated the options at hand:

"not guilty" : Close to "I didn't do it." Will consider.
"guilty" : "I did it." ??? What's the point of going to court if you're going to fold before the game?
"guilty with an explanation"--Whine your way to success.

I went with whining. Normally, I don't like whining, but I was wearing a suit, and you can do anything in a suit. It's true. Before the court opened, I stood outside and timed people on how long they would hold the door for me. When they were about to give up and enter the courthouse, I would clear my throat and say, "Excuse me. I'm still wearing a suit." Which was funny, because it's true. I WAS wearing a suit.

The whining didn't go well at first. I started complaining about how I don't like my job, my life is going nowhere, my passive-aggressive roommate puts my glasses on the top shelf where they are difficult to reach... But once I focused my whining on the ticket, my layers of excuses stacked upon each other like a tower of butter-topped pancakes, until they eventually toppled and crushed her in a metaphorical avalanche of deliciousness.

I ended up just having to pay the court fee, which is $350, so it was a pyrrhic victory, especially considering that I was so enraged with the high court costs that later that night, I poured gasoline along the court perimeter and burned the court down. Where you gonna prosecute me NOW? This is why Tom DeLay rocks. I called him up beforehand and he gave me the suggestion. That guy is awesome at destroying stuff, like courts and codes of ethics. When I grow up, I want to be like Tom DeLay, except with two testicles (Washington secret. Keep it on the hush hush. If Lloyd Grove gets wind of this, I'm toast.)

Shaaaaaaaaa...zam!