Play Nice
You’ve always believed the old adage that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar; surely this applies to owl/human jurors as well. You rise to deliver the speech of your life – the speech that will save the hobo-kingdom from certain doom.
“Yes your honor, I do have something to add,” you say in a tone reserved for proclamations at weddings, “Ladies, gentlemen, and owls of the jury, while I’m certain the alleged list of crimes committed by the hobos is extensive and sickening, I do not intend to argue in their defense.” Pausing, hands apart in a gesture of meek surrender, you gaze into each juror’s large, unblinking eyes. A murmur of surprise spreads across the courtroom.
“Silence!” yells the judge, pounding his gavel furiously, “Nonsense will not be tolerated in my court.” Looking at you he says, “Are you telling me you admit the hobos are guilty and should be evicted? What’s the point of this trial then? Are you simply wasting this court’s time?”
“Not at all your honor, in fact, I propose this court is wasting its own time.”
A great ruckus of animal noises erupts, and the judge pounds his gavel until it snaps. “Order! Order!” he yells and court grows expectantly silent. Time to finish this once and for all.
“Strange half-animal people,” you begin, “Maybe the hobos are guilty, but I ask you this: If you evict the hobos from beneath the sewers where do you think they will go? Let me tell you, they’ll have no choice but to live here, among you. Next time you’re going for a leisurely stroll through the park with your strange half animal children they’ll be sleeping on all the benches – you’ll have nowhere to sit except for on the wet grass and ruin your good pants. When you’re out shopping with the ladies the hobos will be there, dirty hands outstretched for your spare change; eating from your garbage, making a mess, and lowering your property value. That is where the hobos will be if you evict them from their stinking kingdom beneath the streets. So, I suggest for your own sake that you drop the charges against their kingdom and allow them to remain where they belong, among your refuse and fecal matter – in peace.”
The speech finished, the room filled with tension, you return to your seat. The humanimals are dumbfounded. With moist eyes, the judge looks around and stammers, “Well, your speech was quite moving and this court had never considered the *ahem* ramifications of a guilty verdict. Therefore, I move that the case be dismissed immediately!”
At the pronouncement, the attending hobos leap from their benches in celebration, and producing their cleverly hidden instruments, play a victory song as they carry you out of the courthouse. Smelly hobo shoulders are your chariot. You are deposited before the king, once again, and kneel as the roar of the crowd swells. Confetti made of old coffee grounds and streamers of old sausage casings flutter in the warm afternoon air. The king speaks: “Rise oh chosen one, it is I who should bow, for you have saved our kingdom from certain doom.”
“But your majesty, I thought I was supposed to bring back an ancient relic that was lost to our people – I have failed.”
“Ha!” The king laughs like teeth in a can, “You did indeed retrieve the relic we sought: Justice!” The hobo crowd laughs gaily. “Now,” he says solemnly, “The hobo kingdom wishes to reward you for your valiant deeds: Simply tell us what you wish and we will make it so.”
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