Let's not and say they did. As in, let's not talk about the whole 'served him on a platter' scene played out in the hallowed halls of best justice money can buy.
Oh yes, I was happy that the Leif Erickson doppleganger turned up with the little certificate of service, complete with scrawl in the important box, and the other proper boxes ticked, and that he was dressed in a well fitting suit, and looked like a Nordic God. That part was good.
I was happy to see that my own legal muscle was pretty well toned and ready to rock and roll.
I was extremely glad to see the table across from the one where I was seated was bristling with lawyers, gray suits on all, every one with a more expensive looking tie than his next neighbor, the women wearing suits, one woman in what looked like a real honest Chanel. It all looked good.
Then, the judge entered, the clerk called out the standard, "All rise. This honorable court is now in session, Judge Billie Mitchell presiding. Come to order, and prepare to present your matters. God save the United States and those in this court."
I was fine with the coming to order. I was peachy with the judge on the bench. Billie Mitchell was known to be fair, and didn't seem too taken with game playing, considering the cases for which he'd gotten press, and every one of them involving a crooked Chicago politician.
What I also knew was that Judge Mitchell had heard a lot of the church and state cases, and had come down on the side of removing all things Christmas no matter the source. And here I was, up past my pretty pearl earrings in chicken, goose, swan and now cow 'stuff.' All of it redolent with the concept of Christmas. I was also verging on the knife edge of insanity thanks to Christmas. I also wasn't all that far off about the amount of crap in my apartment. Except for the cows, that remained in the building's private garage, at least until the landlord returned, or someone complained about the smell, mooing or inability of sixteen, no make that twenty-four by nightfall, cows to provide cheese for the entire building.
There weren't enough to provide milk to all the kids in the building. And, I liked homemade cheese from unpasteurized milk, so long as it was started within minutes of leaving the cow. Goes double for homemade yogurt, which is wonderful when made immediately after milking.
But, I digress. I've been doing that a lot, between geese escaping into my bedroom, milk maids asking to borrow cash for bus fare, a cat going positively schizoid with every honk from a swan, and partridges that seemed uncomfortable in their cage. I was tired of pears dropping, or was that goose 'stuff'? You have no idea how much goose 'stuff' gets produced in an average goose in 24 hours. And, then there are the eggs. The never ending, at least two per day breaking on the carpet, and then there is more goose crap.
Oops, I've done too much more digressing, so sorry. . .
Snidely Whiplash, the lawyer, who probably did really found Dewey, Cheatem and Howe, arose when the case was called. All of a sudden, fifteen lawyers approached the bench, becasue when you file a case, the first appearance is to tell the judge what's going on, and then everyone comes back later in the day or the next week to actually start the legal work.
Like a covey of quail, and these lawyers kept on coming. Not fifteen, but a full twenty four of them, all gave their names, and all represented different people that were named in teh com;plaint as "John Truelove/John Doe No's. 1-24"
This was my first glimpse of the complaint. It was very long. The punch line, or the demand at the end, was hefty money damages, and an injunction to stop the Twelve Days of Christmas in their tracks. Or one. Or the damages. Or lots of damages. But, stopping the whole event was demanded.
The thing was, how did they know who John Truelove truly was, if there were twenty-four possible candidates for the job? Did we need to ask Iowa to hold another primary to decide? Draw straws? (I had lots of straw, come to think of it, with the cows, geese, bird beds, and all. )
One extremely posh looking woman stood up and asked the whole thing be dismissed. She got to about her third sentence and I sprung from my seat and screamed, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! You can't dismiss this. You have to make it stop. It's making me crazy."
I didn't know the bailiffs could put handcuffs on so quickly. I also didn't know that judges were allowed to duct tape a litigant's mouth shut.
Before the tape was firmly attached, I did apologize. Too late. But, thanks to God, who was really watching over me during this penance for wrongs I couldn't think applied, I didn't get held in contempt.
The judge looked over the bench and glared at me. "Lady, I don't know who you are, or what this case is about, but I can tell you this. We're doing this by the book. Now, be quiet, and I'll hear from the lawyers."
I mutely nodded.
I stood, and listened to every one of the twenty-four lawyers explain why their John Truelove wasn't the John Truelove of soon to be close to being a homicide. His own. Done by moi.
None of them, not a single one of them, were at all close to having a good reason. But, there was more.
The courtroom doors banged open and in came another lawyer. That is, I think it was a lawyer. He looked for all the world like a Santa Claus at Macy's. He could have played the part in the movie. His coat still on, he approached the bench and introduced himself as the lawyer for Lakeside Livery.
Of course, they'd have to have the right name of the right John Truelove. At least that was better than the three lawyers whose clients were really John Trueloves, all three of them. All under the age of twelve. The clients. Not the lawyers.
So, the saga when ton. Every one gets to come back tomorrow, when identities have to be confirmed for the named and served, Santa has to have his client cough up the client information regarding the shipments, and truck rentals and stuff, and I get to go home, await another delivery, and hope for the best as far as my sanity is concerned.
The judge though wasn't without his own sense of humor.
"Young lady, you realize that Russian Orthodox Christmas begins on January 6-7? I wish you a very Happy Christmas." And he left.
Hand over my heart, pinky swear and whatever else. he had a demented twinkle in his eye as he left the courtroom, black robe billowing behind him.
I went home to see what, if anything, had transpired in my absence.
When I got there, it was bad. Very bad. I don't have time to tell you all about it, but there was a leak in the Swan Swimming area, but it wasn't serious. The serious part was with the cows.
It turns out, we had ourselves a bit of cattle rustling going on. I didn't know they rustled milk cows. You all have to wait though, because today's gift was, well, just what the doctor. . .
Gotta Run. Merry, Merry Christmas!
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