I walked right into his office. Called him out I did. Challenged the whole enterprise. Luckily he was a sap, and collided with a thought form of mine I’d barely prepared. The jealousy was hanging out of him in a manner near physical. So if convicted, in this man’s ridiculous courtroom mind, I would stand to inherit his grandfather’s printing press. Detract from that this imbecile’s constant berating, not of a fiend like me of course, he was astounded; he was in effect punishable by mastication from the ego outwards, often as the guilt assaults such a whim of God’s faffing. In my usual fashion I would go on to redeem the grifter with questionable objections, but it could linger a little longer now that ego/dearth/absolution rendered even me aghast. In short, he had to go. All those local gangs that you hear about ten minutes spent rolling a cigarette that shouldn’t even ought to depict clouds of death steam. I mean, any sense to be gleaned from their mumblings had to be embellished, any romance engendered regrettable. A young wig-wearing ponce took the stand for probably thirty seconds, making everybody feel stupid. The sleeping judge ordered a round of Bingo and the whole ordeal collapsed, just like that, into a bunny’s lap.