Hyacinth Macaw, prosecuting attorney and generally unpleasant person, stood up at her document-laden table and made an announcement: “I’m ready to cross-examine the witness on the stand.”
Judge Pearline Soufflé did not stand up at her hand-carved bench, one that was not laden with anything because she was older than dirt, having seen it all at least twice and therefore had no need for reference materials. People stood for her, not the other way around. “You’re out of order, Ms. Macaw.”
Hyacinth: “But I haven’t even presented anything yet.” Her face squished up in that pinched expression that disagreeable people have when things don’t immediately go their way.
Pearline: “I’m aware of that. I’m merely addressing the fact that there isn’t a witness on the stand at this time. There is no one for you to cross-examine. Ergo, out of order. Now, in order for us to move forward and possibly forget your ineptitude, which I won’t, you’ll need to get a witness on the stand. At which point you can then examine the witness. The cross-examining will then be done by your counterpart at the other table, assuming he has any interest in the matter. Do you see how this works?”
Hyacinth, flustered, fiddled with a stack of notecards until she found the one that may or may not prove her savior. “Oh. I see where I missed a step or two. Thank you for the course correction. I’d like to call a witness to the stand.”
Pearline: “I think we’re all aware of that at this point. Let’s expedite this process before I declare a mistrial out of sheer annoyance.”
Hyacinth took a deep breath. “I’d like to call Brian Lageose to the stand.”
A collective gasp arose from the packed audience, partly because it was always fun to overreact in social situations but mostly because no one had any idea who this person might be. Heads turned and mouths whispered, speculation brewing. Was it some type of mafia person? A foreign prince? Maybe it was a porn star!
I suddenly stopped typing. Wait a minute. That’s my name. I looked up from my laptop.
Hyacinth, with her now-smirky face, and Pearline, with her never-ending boredom face, were both glaring in my direction. How either of them got in my house, never mind the entire courtroom, was a bit unsettling. Perhaps it was time I change the locks on the doors.
Judge Pearline, impatient: “Are you waiting for a red carpet to be unrolled?”
Me: “But… I’m the one doing the writing. And the plot doesn’t involve me. Because it’s a story that’s not about me. I’m really missing something here.”
Pearline, exasperated: “Well, sometimes life doesn’t work out the way you planned. Get off your ass and take the stand.”
I reluctantly did so.
Hyacinth and her smirk were not reluctant at all, rushing up to the witness box in a zealous manner, as if I was the last fried-chicken leg at a church picnic. “How dare you deny the fact that you have consistently failed to finish the serialized stories that you launch on Bonnywood and then completely abandon?”
What the hell? “I’m not denying that at all. In fact, on the last serialized story that I abandoned, or perhaps I should say ‘temporarily forgot about’, I willingly admitted that I needed some time to figure out the rest of the plot and then I… temporarily forgot about it. For a few months.”
Hyacinth raced back to her table and snatched up one of her voluminous and beloved documents. “I have a copy of that last cliff-hanger of a blog post right here. And there is no mention of why you were about to ghost your readers. This is an outrage and I recommend the maximum punishment, Your Honor.”
Me: “Yes, there is a mention. It’s down in the footnote, but-”
The audience gasped once again.
Hyacinth, riding high on the adrenaline of the self-centered energy that powers many of the delusional far-right conspiracy theorists: “No one reads the fine print, you worthless hack. No one!”
Me, becoming slightly desperate: “But the folks who follow my blogs are lovely people who generally read everything, at least in my own mind. I can’t imagine that anyone was upset by-”
Hyacinth was nearly apoplectic, on the verge of a self-righteous orgasm: “Lies! All lies! You owe the people of this country an explanation for your abhorrent behavior!”
This was entirely too much. I turned, with beseeching hazel eyes, toward Judge Pearline. She seemed a kindred soul, as we both did not care for annoyingly-useless people. Sadly, she proved kindred in a way that I did not expect, nor relish.
Pearline: “I’m a blogger as well, having published my thoughts on Pearline’s Pearls for the last seven years.” (She turned to the court reporter. “Be sure to include a link in the official transcript. I better see a spike in traffic stats or you are not getting a raise this year.” The court reporter winked conspiratorially, because they tight.) She turned back to me. “I would never dream of not finishing a story that I had started. It simply isn’t done unless you are one of those wretched vanity-blog hooligans who don’t care about anything but pictures of themselves ordering sushi. Explain yourself at once.”
I gathered my thoughts whilst a string quartet, courtesy of the Hallmark Channel, began to play on the soundtrack. (Tori Spelling slipped into the courtroom and took a seat, giving me a thumbs-up before the Court Artist realized she was there and shifted his focus in her direction, sketching away.)
Me: “Okay. Um. Well, I should probably start by saying that I often have grand ideas but then I get stuck on a plot point and I’m not sure where I want to take things, so I park that long-ass story in a follow-up folder. And then… suddenly it’s three months later and I no longer remember the overall plot, never mind the specific point. I’m getting old. If I can wake up in the morning and can still remember my name, it’s a good day.”
Hyacinth, motioning for the string quartet to stop playing, because it might work against her, as if her attitude wasn’t enough of a deterrent: “Fake news! You’re only saying these things to spin the story and reinforce your deceitful agenda.” (Rudy Giuliani slipped into the courtroom and sat behind Hyacinth, giving another thumbs-up.)
Judge Pearline: “I suppose I might be softening a tad, which is hard to believe since I’m also older than the invention of the telephone. But still, what about all those posts where you mention in the comments that you have a nostalgic bit of nonsense to share, but then you never share that bit. Your trustworthiness is in dire need of repair, something I often say to members of the Republican Party. You, sir, are no Ray Bradbury.”
I nodded, acknowledging the crushing of another one of my dream goals as well as Pearline’s manipulation of a famous quote for her own good. “I get that bit of perceived malfeasance, truly I do. But you have to realize that, when I’m commenting on comments, I really intend to do as I say. (Alcohol may or may not be involved, let’s just get real about the nature of the beast.) It’s just the follow-ups where I fail to stick the landing after launching my ass off the balance beam of good intentions.”
Tori Spelling, in the audience, raising her hand even though no one asked her to do so: “I fully understand having to explain yourself after a series of poor decisions, which is basically my entire life. I feel we should give Byron the benefit of the doubt, as long as he agrees to stop starring in Lifetime movies with ludicrous titles and plots that do not reflect reality in any way.”
Me: “Thanks for the half-ass, self-involved support, Tori. Anyway, I promise to start redeeming myself first thing in the morning, assuming that I leave this courtroom in something other than an orange jumpsuit, filled with the hope that everyone has read all of the posts involved with this mess and life will go on with some degree of sanity.”
Hyacinth, still on the cusp of self-righteous orgasm: “Lies! All lies! None of this fits my personal vindictive agenda and I insist on making things up that will sway the clueless into voting for me and-”
Judge Pearline: “Knock it off. It’s not like you’re the former president of this country. Still…” She turned to me. “I can’t let you off the hook with total immunity. We’ll leave it up to the people to decide, a refreshing idea that most Congressmen have long since forgotten. If you can get ten people to mention the name of even one of the serialized stories you have shared on Bonnywood, you can avoid the orange jumpsuit.”
Me, gulping: “I think that might happen.”
Judge Pearline: “You sound a little hesitant.”
Me, remembering what keeps me at the keyboard: “I know it will happen. I have the best followers, ever.”
Valerie Bertinelli, another Hallmark Channel alum, slipped into the courtroom and took a seat beside Tori Spelling. “Sorry, traffic sucked. Did I miss anything?”
Tori: “I don’t think so. Something about a guy with focus issues. But hey, this sketch artist is really good. Did you bring any sushi with you?”
Addendum I: I initially forgot to mention that the name for the prosecuting attorney was inspired my Miss Gentileschi’s unrelated blog post, found here. I just couldn’t resist taking the name and running with it…
Addendum II: I’m really curious about whether or not the comments will generate the names of ten DIFFERENT serialized Bonnywood stories. There have been tons over the years. You don’t have to be precise with names of the series, just a general description will do. Can you save me from incarceration? It would be swell of you to do so… 😉
Categories: My Life
Bonnywood Manor 
Just looked up your blog and found “ dark sauce” is this a work in progress?
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Well, “Duck Sauce” is a manuscript I scribbled some thirty years ago. After finding that mess in the back of a drawer a few months ago, I did share several excerpts from such, so that DOES qualify as a serial. Congrats, this is officially number 1 out of 10… 😉
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Yay!
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You can always count of Tori to add her two-cents worth.
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Yes, you can. But really, even if she’s not the most talented actress out there, she does seem to be a decent human despite her extremely-privileged upbringing, so I’ll give her that. (She’s a staunch supporter of the LGBT community, always a win in my book) But she really needs to stay away from those Lifetime movies. Just, no.
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‘ello! That old Pearline is a clever one, she is!
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I wouldn’t mind being known as a Pearl… 😉
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Me neither!
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Gee I feel like I might have missed something.
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You didn’t really miss anything. I was just feeling a smidge guilty about not finishing several story projects that I have launched at Bonnywood and never finished. So I dragged this one out of the archives, written as it was during a previous bout of guilt although about something else, and fudged things a bit. Say, that “something else” was a writing challenge I hosted and almost fumbled before things worked out just fine. Would you be interested in such?
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You really have to get over all that guilt. Took me almost 60 years to do it myself. Now I can ignore it. I do what I want when I want. That being said, I don’t know about a writing challenge because I don’t work well under pressure and retirement let’s me ignore those strict schedules.
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To be honest, the guilt is somewhat fleeting. I basically do what I want as well, but every now and then I get a bit squishy about writing promises I have made here at Bonnywood. After all, if you say you’re going to do it, you should do it. But I’m much more focused on enjoying life, and sometimes that means late-night promises lose their validity a wee bit.
No pressure on the writing challenge, of course. Just thought I should mention it because I do like the way you work your magic with words…
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Thank you. I know what you mean about promises. I make less and less these days. As far as writing goes, the feeling is mutual.
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“Cleo The Cat”, “Duck Sauce”? I heard that serialized storytelling is making a comeback now in the digital world, but I haven’t read any serialized story so far. LOL, Hyacinth and Pearline are too crazy… The world is filled with unfinished projects, relationships, dreams…
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Cleo the Cat definitely qualifies as a serial, in a sense, as she often makes appearances in my story. That makes 2 out of 10. We’re on a roll! 🙂
And I do hope serials are making a comeback. I used to do them all the time, but it was hard keeping folks interested throughout the episodes…
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Reblogged this on Love and Love Alone.
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Thank you!
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Nothing worse than being put on trial, Byron. At least for a fleeting moment, you might have been a porn star–like a Schrodinger’s Pizza Delivery Boy scenario!
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It’s interesting that you focused on the porn-star angle. This was on another blog before I gave birth to Bonnywood, but I used to have a recurring character known as Sage Thunderbolt, who worked in the “adult entertainment” industry, as they say. And, checking the records, I see that he DID make a brief appearance in a story shared on Bonnywood. So, in a roundabout way, this qualifies as a valid exhibit to proffer to Judge Pearline, and we’re now at 3 out of 10. Good job! 😉
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Audrey slipped in and sat by Spencer Tracy.
“So they’re finally going to get him…you’d think they would wait until after the State of The Union address.”
“Well, someone is going to get something. This isn’t his Last Hurrah.”
“He’s a Courageous Captain, he’ll get out of this. And if it doesn’t, orange looks good on him. It may be to our benefit, what else is he going to do in the slammer.”
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See, this comment right here, showing your brilliance and wit, makes me want to gently slap you for not posting more. (And I say that in a completely supportive and non-violent way.) Get to work on something that will dazzle us. Go! 😉
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Duck Sauce, Village of the Damned (which autocorrect wants to call “scammed” – could be a story there 😉 ) and Cleo.
Trials – since I come from a family with a lot of lawyers in it (and was married for a long time to a judge) trials are something I try to avoid. Really boring with potentially ver bad outcomes. Nothing good there. 😉
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You’re the first to mention “Village of the Damned”, so now we’re at 4 out of 10. I knew I could count on you.
I’m one of those people who does NOT even attempt to get out of jury duty, so I’m always getting called. And yes, it’s not fun, it’s not pretty, but it’s a duty. More importantly, did I know you were married to a judge? It seems like I should be aware of this, and maybe I once was, but I’m old, so… 😉
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Aw, thank you. 🙂
By avoidance I meant that I don’t like listening to the “trial talk” – I grew up around a lot of it. I always am excused from juries because spouses or family members of lawyers and judges aren’t allowed to serve, here anyway. It’s considered to be a conflict.
I can’t remember if I ever said that before, so in that case, I don’t think you should worry about it … 😉 We can be forgetful together.
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The Proper Care and Feeding of the Writers in Your Life – Volume 1
Dispatches-from-the-wasteland-the-unbearable-righteousness-of-being-wrong/
Return-to-the-village-of-the-damned-the-first-sign-of-madness-2/
Its-the-crate-bumpkin-harley-crown-the-final-list-4/
Now. I made a deal with Hyacinth about those stalking charges that were pending. She’s agreed (not that I trust her, she’s a lawyer and they are ALL untrustworthy) to drop them if I could prove I never stalked you, but merely followed you with zeal. Yeah. Zeal. Uh,
I do hope it helps. If not, keep an eye out for the file baked in the carrot cake that will come special messenger should you be incarcerated. Via le revolution de writers!!
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I fully expected you to shine brightly in this challenge, and you did so with great acclaim and charm. Let’s do a rundown…
“Proper Care and Feeding” is certainly a serial, although I’ve used various names for the installments over the years. That takes us to 5 out of 10.
“Dispatches from the Wasteland”: I’m guesstimating there are at least 40 of these, probably more. Big win. 6 out of 10.
“Return to the Village of the Damned”: This series had a completely different feel from the original “Village of the Damned”, so it’s assuredly it’s own animal. 7 out of 10.
“Crate Bumpkin”: I’m actually surprised that no one has mentioned this one before you, as I’ve shoved that mess out there a good 4 or 5 times. And now we’re up to 8 out of 10. So close!
Thank you muchly, Sister. And from a legal standpoint, it’s not really stalking if I welcome the attention. So Hyacinth can blow it out her portal… 😉
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Yes Hyacinth can blow it out her portal. As long as she remains upwind….
(heh heh).. The sheer cleverness of “Crate Bumpkin” (I fell off my chair chortling when I first read that) should make it a classic. An ‘in the history books of cleverness” classic!
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I’m SO glad you are fond of “Crate Bumpkin”. It was originally a valentine to a very specific subset of folks I once knew in a certain place and time, but I think it has aged well and it gives me warmth…
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Damn, don’t you just hate it when you get kidnapped by your Conscience? Frosted flakes was a cereal I remember. And that alphabet one. But now I’m more into vector or granola. Does that help?
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So clever, you are. But yes, my conscience does get kidnapped, on a fairly regular basis. But at least I have the questionable sense to get it out of my system with a freefall blog post here and there, probably to the annoyance of many, but still… 😉
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I really think that line in A Few Good Men should have been, “Damnit, I don’t need any reference materials.”
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That would have changed the ENTIRE movie. But I’m still scared of Jack Nicholson. And mildly titillated at the same time. Overshare? Perhaps… 😉
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It would change the entire movie. It would have to become a British drama on the BBC, with Ian McKellen shouting, “Damnit, I don’t need any reference materials” while peering over a pair of horn-rimmed glasses and sipping tea.
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Beautiful blog
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Thank you!
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thank you so much🎵
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🙂 🙂
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