Criminal Tennis Court -5minutefreewrite (x3)
"It was an advantage!" I said half-shouting. My response was instinctive.
The tennis courts doubled as criminal courts most nights, and she had just won a match there this morning. That was why she looked so confident.
Then he said, “Let her be.”
Then she said, “Game, set and match, punk”
Then the judge said, “over-ruled”
I sat back down and there were two more witnesses who said they saw my client eat a live chicken.
There had been so many motions and overrulings that I couldn’t remember why we were there anymore, at this tennis court that doubled as a criminal courts. I tried to piece it back together. To my left was a man who looked like he might eat a live chicken. Across the net on my right was a woman who looked like she was good at tennis. And sitting on a tall chair, like one you think a lifeguard sits on, or I suppose in this case, a tennis court judge, was a tennis court turned criminal court judge. It didn’t seem like I was doing much good noticing these things, so I looked down in my lap. I had dozens of tennis balls there, each in groups of three in containers that looked like they could hold pringles, or in this case, tennis balls. I opened a container, and looked at the balls. Yep, there were lots of words written on them. Way more than a tennis ball would need in order to be used as a tennis ball. These must be my notes, and I must be the lawyer. It was hard to tell where on the tennis ball I should start reading… but maybe this was like the language in interstellar. If I could comprehend it, I’d be able to see the future and the past as if it were the present. But all I could see of the future was that I was going to fail. And that was just what I got from context.
She got there about five minutes faster than the speed limit allowed
This seemed to be the gist of the argument against my client, that either his girlfriend was speeding or she couldn’t be his alibi. And according to her, she wasn’t speeding. I think she was worried about getting in trouble for confessing to breaking the law and speeding. But that’s what the 5th Amendment is for… but then she’d be pleading the fifth, and tennis courts don’t have any time for the number 5.
It was all an incredible headache. The tennis court let her believe she’d be in trouble if she confessed to speeding, but she wanted to tell the truth… anyways. I was the lawyer, I was supposed to help with these things, but I couldn’t, because all I could remember was that there had been another tube of tennis balls here somewhere with the answers written on them, and now they were gone.
“Badgering the witness!” I hollered, but it didn’t seem to do any good. There were only racketeering charges being lobbed at my client’s head NO BIG DEAL. Sarcasm doesn’t play to the tennis lobby.
the blue headband
I figured that was the key. The prosecuting attorney kept adjusting her blue headband, and every time she did, the jury got flustered, as chickens often do, and had to be settled before we could continue. It always threw me off. Every time I was seeing clearly, it happened. I thought I understood most of the tennis balls, but then that would happen and I would forget how to read them or lose my place. It didn’t help that there were now more tennis balls. Some of them were positively glowing, like they’d been painted with glow paint and left to soak up the rays of the sun, and now in the dark they stood out and distracted my eye from the tennis ball I’d be reading. It baffles me how the judge didn’t seem to mind, but maybe the judge was also okay with the prosecuting attorney’s headband shenanigans.
Well, it was all over in just about 10 minutes. After that, I was took exhausted to go on, and the chicken jury convicted my client. Luckily his girlfriend zoomed in with a car that seemed like it could ONLY speed, and he leaped in and they zoomed away, so I guess that means I won. Habeas corpus and all that. I’m finally getting the opportunity to take a vacation. My aunt says I need one, and since she just spent all that time trying to distract me with glowing tennis balls, I guess she’s only got my own best interests at heart. It turns out, if you build it they WILL come, but it’s impossible to know who THEY will be. In this case, I guess if you build a tennis court that can double as a criminal court in the night time, they will be absurdists.
Photo Credit @stinawog, used with permission
Never trust a chicken judge!!!
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