Category Archive:I wanna go home!

caseyaltman / Foter.com / CC BY-NC-SA

Peering over glasses perched at the end of his nose – the judge looked at the defendants seated before him. It was just another day in his judicial service. Just another string of defendants jumpsuited in faded yellow, manacled to each other.

Just another day in paradise.

He let his gaze slip over each “in custody” in a slow, deliberate way, taking in the appearance and demeanor of each.

Seated at the table was a gaggle of young and eager public defense attorneys. They did their job – defending the guilty – well, with eagerness, fervor and mostly smiling faces.

“Call the first case, madam clerk,” he bellowed into the overhead mic.

“Case number 62-43690, Judge,” she replied.

A timid hand raised from the midst of the in custodies and the judge tried to act less surprised than he felt. What was SHE doing here? In chains? Hair unwashed and tousled? Yellow jumpsuit and blue tenny-runners with pink socks?

“Charge, Mr. District Attorney?”

“Minor consuming, Judge.”

“I see. Thank you. Now, Miss Michaels, this is what I am going to do. I need to recuse myself and let Judge Olsen continue with your arraignment. Do you understand?”

He tried not to smile as she nodded and he noticed her trembling lips and a tear working its way down her cheek.

Leaving the courtroom he took off his robes and went to the Bailiff’s office. “I’ll be posting bail for 62-43690, Josh. But I have a favor to ask. Don’t let her know the bail has been posted until the morning.”

“Sir?”

“You see, I always promised my kids that if they were arrested they would spend a night in jail before I bailed them out.”

“Aha! Yes, sir. I’ve got it.”

Fully robed again the magistrate reentered the courtroom.

“All rise! The court is back in session, the Honorable William Michaels presiding.”
He adjusted his glasses once again, looked over the remaining prisoners and boomed into the mic again. “Next case, please.”
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Those deliberate trifecta judges . . . erm . . . EDITORS have challenged us with the third definition for DELIBERATE. Here are 329 (or 330 – depends on the program) of mine . . . bring on your own. There is still time.

Velma Jones sipped her tea next to her window. Jamie seemed closer somehow after missing him so much yesterday.

An aide entered and Velma smiled in her direction. Her once bright blue eyes, now milky with age, could only see the worker’s shape vaguely. All of the aides were “Missie-girl” to Velma.

“‘Morning, Miz Jones. How’re you doing today? Shall I close the winder for ya?”

Nah, Missie-girl. I’s fine. I’s lissenin to them noisemakers out there. Must be a storm a-comin, they are that noisy. Jamie and I allus loved to walk in the rain. Jus lissen to em!

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Here are another 100 words to complement last week’s 100 word challenge. Widder Jones has a first name!
VV’s 100 Word Challenge this week is MILKY.

Martin_Heigan / Nature Photos / CC BY-NC-ND

Hannah, take a memo.
Hannah, write a PSA.
Hannah, did you make my flight arrangements yet?
Hannah, coffee, STAT!
Hannah, the phone is ringing – still.

Hannah, juggle my balls, please.

Right away, sir.

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Ever have a job like that? Yeah, me, too. The italicized words, of course, are in Hannah’s mind voice.

Thanks, Trifecta, for another great challenge.

“What did you put in that?” Marcia sputtered, but drank it down anyway.

“Just a little doctor – aka hair of the dog that bit ya,” Andrea laughed. “Drink up, Marcie. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Wha – what time is it?”

“Nearly noon, it’s nearly noon.”

“What day?”

“Lawdie, woman. You sure ask enough questions. It’s Sunday. It’s just Sunday. I’m here. You’re here. You survived your night out on the town.”

“No. I’ve got to go. I’ve got to get home. The kids will be missing me.” She shivered. “Oh, God. Ron will be missing me. What will I tell him?”

“Tell him it’s over, baby cakes. Tell him he’s screwed his last bimbo and you are ready to do it on your own. Tell him whatever you want. He’s an ass. He’s treated you like crap for way too many years.

“You didn’t do anything wrong last night. We went out. We had a couple – okay a LOT – of drinks – but you’re still as pure as you were when I took you out. You didn’t do anything wrong. I brought you here because it was closer and you were out of it.”

“Where’s my car? Wait – did I drive?”

“Slow down. Sit down and take a breath. We took a cab to the club. We took a cab here. I’ll drive ya home in a bit when your head clears.

“Really, Marcie, you need to take some time to think. I’ll be right there with ya when you’re ready. You told me you’re ready to move on with your life. When it gets from your head to your heart you let me know and I’ll help you however you need. There’s a big life out there, kiddo. You’ll be just fine in it.”

“Thanks, Andrea. I know you’re right. I do. But, for now I’ve got to get home and to my kids. They are the only reason I exist. They deserve to know I’m there for them.

“Now, where are my shoes?”
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written for Trifecta’s challenge “Doctor” 3a : material added (as to food) to produce a desired effect.

I’ll be honest – I’ve just had a surgical procedure at the hospital and have only been home for an hour – the “good” drugs probably haven’t worn off. You’ll tell me, won’t you, if this is just drivel and I totally missed the mark in my hang-over?
:)

Tattoo_Lover / Foter.com / CC BY

Theirs was a rocky relationship from the get-go: met in Little Rock; drove through the Rockies; settled in Castle Rock, S.D.

Castle Rock – a blip on the map: God-forsaken, dusty and hot; a 3-way stop; nearest neighbor miles away. Lord only knew why Lew wanted to be here with the snakes – the two-legged ones and the creepy-crawlies. The two-legged snakes rode HOGs. Lew fell right in with that bunch and Sandi was given a choice: like it – or not.

She was ogled and pawed at – and she hated it. More than once Sandi begged to visit her Mama back in No. Carolina.

“Mama needs me and I need Mama.”

He only laughed, grabbed at her, and looked around at the other bikers. “You’re MAH woman! You don’ need yo Mama, ya big baby. Now, go get me a beer and make it snappy.” He swatted her backside and waggled his eyebrows at his bros.

The biggest of the group growled, “You sure lettin’ the old lady smart mouth ya there. If it was my woman she’d be sportin’ a bloody lip ‘long about now.”

The others laughed and punched each other’s shoulders.

Sandi brought his beer, but stepped a little too close and he caught her up. “C’mere baby, and give me a li’l. You know you want it. That’s why you’re with me. Stop yer snivelin’ and show these guys what I get ever’ night.”

She trembled and tried to get away. “You’re hurtin’ me, Lew. Let me go. I want to go see my Mama.”

“Really? Is that what you want? Well, baby. Life’s a bitch and then you die. Now, get outta my sight. I’ll deal with you when I’m done here.”

A rocky relationship – that’s what they had from the get-go. It ended later that night when Sandi laid the biggest rock she could find upside Lew’s skull. She flagged down a trucker headed the right way and went back home. To her Mama.
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Shhhhh – the editors at Trifecta used a bad word . . . and then challenged us to write 33-333 words using the same word in its third definition. The above is my take on it. Where’s yours?