The Stand

“Who DIED? Who died and made YOU God?”

My knees, they buckle, my mouth gone cotton dry, my heart muscle making rumba in my eardrums, syncopated rhythm that give me dizzy. Get me dizzy. Me dizzy. Dizzy time now.

This is it. This is how I make my stand.

“You sit there, smug and obnoxious, you hide behind your mask and society’s values. I’M society. I AM society! There’s two of us involved in this- me and another person who isn’t me. That other person is you! YOU!!! Who gave you the power to judge me? What gives you the right to point your finger and accuse? What makes you think you’re better than me? I mean, what the fuck is wrong with you? Tell me! TELL ME!!!”

I swallowed hard.

“Your Honor.”

That was when the judge threw his gavel at me, a move the local papers would later call “unprecedented.” But I deserved it. I panicked, ran, made it as far as the jury box before the bailiff but a bullet in my left buttock cheek. (the tingles!)

I woke up here, reconsidering my legal strategy, and I guess what I’m saying is:

“Could I have more Jell-O?”

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