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    Arrest me Rob!!

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    doctor_sloppy

    Posts : 3
    Join date : 2010-09-30

    Arrest me Rob!!

    Post  doctor_sloppy on Thu Sep 30, 2010 1:02 am

    Rob, you're a guy who knows what he's doing!

    Why don't you get me arrested by Interpol, you fucking dick!!!

    doctor_sloppy

    Posts : 3
    Join date : 2010-09-30

    Re: Arrest me Rob!!

    Post  doctor_sloppy on Thu Sep 30, 2010 1:06 am

    The Control
    Sickness



    Robert A. Black






    1



    James Pringle had been at Tyrone, Dodds & Co. for three weeks. He had made a few brief court appearances. He had learned to use his Dictaphone. He has learned that to pick up and move his Dictaphone to the vicinity of his mouth, at the precise moment somebody passed by the window at the front of his office, ensured that people within the law offices thought he was busy. But the most important thing he had learned was how to fill out his time sheet correctly and neatly, and he attended to that now with great care and finesse.
    Suddenly, with violence and excitement, a short thickset man with hyperactive grey eyes and large balding patch, burst through his office door. It was Dodds, his boss. He stood, staring vacantly at Pringle, rubbing the bristles of shaved hair at the back of his head. In his other hand he held a file.
    "Right! How would you like to make your first appearance in the High Court?"
    "Yeah, sure. When?"
    "Now."
    "Now?"
    "Do you have any other commitments?"
    "Well, no. It's just a bit short notice."
    "Pringle, it's just a simple enlargement for service," said Dodds, grinning. "I'd send Janice if I could."
    Janice was Dodd's personal secretary. Everyone in the firm suspected he was fucking her.
    "Well, if you think it will be all right."
    "Greeaat." He dumped the file on the desk. It looked menacing. "Civil list matter, Slater and Brad. We act for the plaintiff." Dodds turned to leave.
    "But where do I go, what do I say?"
    Dodds stared at him blankly again. "I keep forgetting, you know nothing yet. It's simple. You just appear, 'may it please Your Honour, counsel's name is Pringle, I appear for the plaintiff - the documents have not been served yet - an enlargement for service until the next date is sought.' Simple eh?"
    Pringle nodded.
    "Excellent. If you run you should just make it." He left.
    Pringle hurriedly grabbed a pen and tore a sheet of paper from his desk-pad. "Counsel's name is Pringle," he scribbled shakily as he spoke, "The documentation, no documents, um, have not yet been served..." He managed to get down most of what Dodds had said. He struggled with his jacket. "Shit! Just calm down. It's going to be fine. It's going to be fine."
    "Are you all right?" Dodds had been watching him from outside, through the open doorway. He was grinning satanically.
    "Yes."
    He grabbed the file and hurried past him. He felt important as he told the receptionist he was off to the High Court. He left the building, entering the humid midday air and for a minute or so the summer sun felt good thawing his air-conditioned bones as he sped excitedly along the pavement, towards the white courthouse entrance. But once he reached the large steps that lead to the entrance level, drops of sweat wormed and tickled their way freely down his face.
    He went through the main entrance doors and moved quickly towards the High Court area of the building, heart thumping as he traveled through swinging doors and corridors, oblivious to the people he passed. He arrived at the main court area and located a white notice board. Civil list matters were in number four. He had no idea where that was. He knew the main courts were usually numbered 'one' and 'two', so he chanced that four was down one of the corridors. He heard matter names being announced faintly down a corridor on his right. He followed. He saw another white board in the distance. He had found courtroom four. He was soaked in sweat. He tried to compose himself, but as he paused a feeling of nausea flowed through him like poison. He shivered. Nervous sickness had been suppressed by panic, but now it returned. He knew it well.
    "Slater versus Brad."
    The words crackled from speakers above the courtroom door.
    "Oh no!" he groaned.
    He took a deep breath then launched himself through the door. The room was packed. Lawyers filled the front area, many standing. They all looked very formal and older than him. Most of them stared at him. He looked at one of them near to him and smiled feebly. The lawyer turned away. There was an airless silence. He looked up at the judge, who sat behind a large elevated bench. His head down, he was busy writing. He appeared elderly.
    Pringle searched the courtroom, frantically looking for a spare place at one of the benches, but there was none. He had always addressed the judge from behind one in the past. It felt safer and he would normally arrive at court early in order to secure a seat.
    The judge looked up.
    "Slater versus Brad," repeated the court-taker indifferently.
    It was now or never. He stepped forward boldly. "May it please Your Honour, counsel's name is Pringle. I appear for the plaintiff in this matter. The relevant documents have not been served yet and accordingly we request an enlargement for service until the next date, so that this can be effected."
    I did it, he thought. Maybe a little fast, but no note and it was fine. It was fine!
    There was a long pause. The judge stared at him, without expression.
    "I cannot hear you!" he sneered.
    Deaf, rude old bastard, thought Pringle.
    He cleared his throat. "May it please Your Honour, counsel's name is Pringle. I appear for-"
    "I cannot hear you!" bellowed the judge disgustedly.
    Hostile eyes focused upon him like burning rays from a magnifying glass. The room lacked air-conditioning and stank of body odour. He could taste salty sweat and drops of it fell from his forehead.
    He tried again, this time shouting. "May it please Your Honour! Couns…"
    "I - CANNOT - HEAR - YOU!!"
    This is fucking ridiculous, he thought. It's not my fault the fucking old prick is deaf! He approached one of the microphones on a stand at the desk in front of him. He leant over very close to it and shouted, "MAY IT PLEASE YOUR HONOUR!!"
    Most of the people within the courtroom, including the judge, had covered their ears with their hands. Pringle stepped back from the desk. The judge cautiously removed his hands. Others followed. There was a cruel period of silence. He felt morbid.
    "Who is he?" the judge asked the group.
    A lawyer at one of the benches stood.
    "He says his name is Pringle sir."
    "What does he want, Mr. Jacob?"
    "He appears for the plaintiff sir. He requests an enlargement for service until the next date."
    Then Jacob said something that Pringle did not catch. It must have been amusing, as the judge laughed. This caused many of the lawyers to laugh. This caused Pringle to laugh. He did not wish to be left out.
    "Very well. Enlarged until the twenty-fifth. Oh, and Mr. Jacob."
    "Yes sir?"
    "Please inform Mr. Pringle that if he appears on that date, to ensure that he can be heard."
    "Certainly sir. As Your Honour pleases."
    "As Your Honour pleases," squeaked Pringle. He smiled nervously at the judge, bowed awkwardly then retreated hurriedly.
    He trudged back to the law offices. He lit a cigarette. It gave him some relief and focus. He encountered a few familiar faces on his journey: a probation officer, a lawyer, two court staff. He greeted them as if unaffected. Maybe they knew already. They showed no sign. Perhaps he was the victim of some initiation ritual of the High Court. Dark thoughts shot through his head.
    There were no messages waiting for him at reception. He was glad. He crept to the sanctuary of his office and closed the door. He felt drained. He sat down behind his desk and gazed at the wall. After a few minutes he looked down at his desk. It occurred to him that now he had something significant to put on his time sheet. He slowly recorded the chargeable half hour. Five six minute units. He noticed Dodds darting about outside the office like a plump blowfly attracted to something stinking.
    "Piss off!" Pringle hissed.
    Dodds burst through the door aggressively.
    "How'd it go?"
    "It was enlarged."
    "Any problems?"
    "Not really."
    "What happened?"
    Dodds grinned. Pringle had odd, confused thoughts.
    "The judge said he couldn't hear me"
    "Who was it?"
    "I don't know. Some old guy. I couldn't understand it. I even shouted at him. In the end someone else had to tell him what we wanted."
    "Were you gowned up?"
    "What do you mean?"
    "Aw shit."
    "What?"
    "A High Court judge will not hear you in open court unless you wear the appropriate wig and gown. Didn't they teach you that at law school?"
    "No. Not that I remember. Why didn't you tell me?"
    "I thought everybody knew that. I keep forgetting, you know nothing yet. Didn't you notice the other lawyers?"
    "I suppose so. But there was no time. You should have told me."
    "Look Pringle, it's good, don't you see?"
    "No."
    "Yes. That's the sort of experience you need to become a stand out lawyer. Believe me, I know. And you got a taste of it early. Real early. You're a better lawyer for it. Ever heard the expression, you have to fall off a horse at least seven times before you become an expert rider?"
    "No," whimpered a beaten Pringle.






    2


    There was no wind in the garden. Pink luculia, jasmine, lavender, blue agapanthus and daphne flourished here. Thick leyland hedges with full trunks trapped the heavy scent from the late summer flowers. Macadamia and persimmon trees carried young green fruit in abundance. Golden elms and robinia towered, their warm yellow leaves rustling gently. From the highest branches, one could see the city of Glenthorpen, with its tallest buildings poking through the jaundiced sky like fingers. Glenthorpen was a farming town that became a small city, it’s only real feature a stinking river full of dead cows and rusting cars, that snaked through its center.
    The house was impressive. Mauve and red bougainvillea flowed around it. Within the garden there were sounds of summer: cicadas rasping steadily; a pair of flitting, cheeping fantails; hissing sprinklers; murmuring bees; rebounding tennis balls and occasional cheers and laughter from the players.
    The two constables faced the back of the naked man. His body was tall and had lost its youth. His back was tanned, in contrast with his white sagging buttocks. A small metallic tank was strapped to his back. It contained a weak chemical-free manure solution. He whistled cheerfully, as he sprayed the base of a small tree.
    Constable Right glanced at the men playing tennis on the grass court. They were some distance away and had not noticed them.
    "Excuse me sir," said Constable Left.
    The man ceased whistling abruptly and turned quickly to face them. His face was flushed and his body jerked forward for an instant, then back again, as if one part of his brain had said run and another, stay. He had many noticeable scars on his face where at one time his skin had been on fire with irritation. His hair was streaked gray and wavy. It looked greasy. His eyes were a vulnerable brown.
    The constables shuffled and twitched.
    "I'm sorry Your Honour," said Constable Left. "We had no idea it was you."
    "No idea sir," echoed Constable Right.
    "You see sir, there was a complaint."
    "A complaint?" croaked the judge. "A complaint?"
    "Yes sir," said Constable Left. "About the way you are dressed sir."
    "Or not dressed," Constable Right corrected.
    "Oh I see. Well constables, you must understand, we are all naturists here."
    "That includes the gentlemen playing tennis, does it sir?" asked Constable Right.
    "Well, yes. They are my guests. Quite frankly I did not think anyone could see in. The hedges are high, you see? We certainly did not mean to offend anyone."
    "They are high," agreed Constable Right.
    "Must have been the gaps," said Constable Left.
    "I beg your pardon?"
    "There are gaps in the hedges sir. See?" Constable Left pointed to them.
    "Oh I see. Yes, well that must have been it," agreed the judge.
    There was a period of silence. A monarch butterfly glided painfully close to His Honour, then flapped away.
    Constable Left looked at Constable Right. "Well, that clears that up," he said. "We better be going. Have a nice day sir."
    "Have a nice day sir," echoed Constable Right.
    "Thank you constables."
    The two policemen turned and walked away. The judge returned to his spraying. After a few moments he thought he heard laughter. He turned to see, but they had gone.
    "Why didn't we arrest him," asked Constable Right as they drove away.
    "For what?"
    "Indecent exposure."
    "No way."
    "Oh right, because he's a judge."
    "No. Of course not. Because he didn't think he could be seen by the public."
    "Oh."
    "They reached the end of the long driveway and pulled out onto the highway."
    "But what about the guy last week?" Constable Right persisted. "He was in his house."
    "Yeah, but that was different."
    "How?"
    "What?"
    "How was that different?"
    "Because he was a loony."
    "Oh."
    Constable Right paused thoughtfully.
    "Did you think he had a big one?"
    "Big what?"
    "You know, big cock?"
    "Who, the judge or the loony?"
    "Judge Diamond."
    "Yeah, I did actually. Well, you know, bigger than average."
    "I thought so too."
    They both giggled like schoolboys.




    3


    Pringle was on the familiar journey to the courthouse. The morning was bright and warm. But the shivering had started. And the sweats. Burning cold sweats that stained the armpits of his shirts urine yellow and carried the stench of his fear.
    "Pringle!"
    He turned. It was Simon Flint. Flint had started practicing around the same time as him. He worked for one of the largest firms in the city. Flint was tall and thin, with blonde hair and very clear blue eyes that studied everything intensely from behind expensive glasses. He wore custom made suits. His family had money, his father being a top commercial lawyer in the capital. Flint loved the law.
    "Simon," said Pringle.
    "Got a plea matter. Only minor theft. What about you?"
    "Sentencing."
    "Really? What charges?"
    "Burglary."
    "Yeah?"
    "He's in custody."
    "Serious. What do you think he'll get?"
    "Dunno’. Probably jail. Depends on the judge. Do you know who it is?"
    "Nope."
    "I hope it's Ballow."
    "As long as it's not Carl."
    "Yeah."
    "The constipated toad."
    "Toads can be poisonous."
    Pringle laughed nervously.
    They climbed the steps. The shivering grew more intense.
    There was a commotion outside the courthouse doors. A crowd of protesters had gathered. They chanted, "DON'T PAY! DON'T PAY!" over and over and handed out leaflets. One of them approached Flint and handed him a leaflet. He read it and smiled.
    "What is it?" asked Pringle.
    "NORML," answered Flint. NORML supported the decriminalization of cannabis.
    The two entered the main courthouse doors and headed for District Court number one. Once inside, Pringle left Flint and hurried to secure a place behind one of the benches at the rear of the courtroom. He ripped a few pages from his pad, placed them on the wooden bench to mark his place then approached the probation officer on duty. He asked for his client's pre-sentence report. Probation reports attempted to sum up a person's life in a few pages. Some of them were as short as half a page.
    The probation officer was part Maori with a bushy moustache. He handed him two copies of the report. "PD and Supervision recommended," he said with a smile. "Depends on the judge."
    "Who is it today?" Pringle asked anxiously.
    "Not sure. Ballow I think."
    This gave Pringle some relief. What does he care, he thought, as he headed for the holding cells at the front of the courtroom. He had reached the autopilot stage, oblivious to the shivering and dripping armpits.
    In the holding cell area there were many police of varying rank. Some sat at a table sipping coffee. Others chatted. The smell of coffee made him feel sick. He approached the ones standing and waited with an uncomfortable forced smile. Nobody acknowledged him.
    "Ahhemm." He cleared his throat.
    No one responded.
    "Excuse me," he said. "I need to see my client. He's in the cells."
    They just carried on chatting. He felt deflated. Eventually an older looking one got up slowly. Pringle had seen him before and knew him as Harry. Word had it that he had been doing the court cells for twenty years.
    "What's his name?" asked Harry.
    Harry had calm eyes. Pringle was stressed and struggled to maintain eye contact.
    "Dalberg. See his name is on the list." He pointed to the white board with jagged red marker pen writing on it.
    "Dalberg? That's a strange Christian name."
    "No, that is his surname," Pringle replied.
    "Well, what's his first name then?"
    "I don't know! What does it matter?"
    "It matters a lot. Believe me."
    Pringle looked at the pre-sentence report.
    "Geoffrey. It's Geoffrey, all right!"
    "Geoffrey? Oooh that's bad."
    "How can that be bad?"
    "I've seen a few bad Geoffreys in my time. Still, look on the bright side eh? I mean it could be worse. He could be an Allan. They're the worst you know, Allans?"
    "Please, I just want to see him for a few minutes. To show him his report."
    "All right, all right. Middle cell. But don't come back to me and say I didn't warn you."
    He hurried to the middle cell. He passed the first cell door. Each door had a small window. When the prisoners saw him they waived and yelled and some banged on the window angrily. Last time he had been in the cells he had seen a young constable spat on.
    He reached the middle cell. He cautiously loosened the metal bolt. He had a vision of being trampled by vicious stampeding criminals. He opened the door. The cell was crowded. The air was warm and stunk. All in the room were silent and stared at him. One of them had a full-faced Moku. He looked dangerous.
    "Geoffrey Dalberg," Pringle squeaked.
    His client came forward. They stepped outside the cell and Pringle secured the bolt again. They sat on the old wooden bench in the corridor. He gave him his report. He read it slowly. He was young. Pringle told him he would try for Periodic Detention and Supervision. He said that was the recommendation in the report but it was not guaranteed.
    "Who's the judge?" asked Dalberg.
    "I'm not sure. Hopefully Ballow."
    Dalberg nodded.
    "We'll give it our best shot Geoffrey. You do have things in your favour."
    "Whatever you can do man."
    He returned him to the cell.
    "Hey mister?" someone yelled from the back. "Think you can get us a drink of water?"
    "Yeah, it's hot in here man," said another.
    "Yeah!" others agreed.
    "I'll see what I can do," said Pringle.
    "Yeah, you do that."
    He secured the door once more then went back to the group of police. A few noticed him but said nothing.
    "Ahhhemmm."
    No reaction.
    "Excuse me?"
    Nothing.
    "Look!" he shouted. They turned to face him menacingly.
    "Some of the people in the middle cell want a drink of water. They're thirsty."
    The cops looked at each other, then back at him, then back at each other again, then all broke into raucous laughter. He could still hear the laughter when he hurried through the courtroom to take his place, just before the judge was announced.
    Judge Carl swept into the courtroom, scanning the room like some great preying mantis surveying the gathering of available prey for the day. He bowed to counsel with a smirk then sat.
    Pringle sunk. Oh God, not Carl!
    Judge Carl disposed of cases in the list rapidly. He prided himself on this. He had the national record for the most cases heard in a month. He also had the highest annual revenue figure for any District Court judge. He knew how to fine when he had to. His judgments were appealed the most out of any New Zealand judge. This did not concern him. It kept his higher brothers and sisters busy and so they should be, the ridiculous amounts of money they were paid compared to him.
    Some of the sentencing matters were called. Pringle started squirming in his seat.
    A young Maori defendant named Bethel was called. He walked nervously to the dock. He was quickly stopped by a constable and told to remove his cap, which he wore backwards. Carl watched him with disdain.
    The youth reached the dock clasping the cap behind his back with both hands. He looked up at the judge. The old man had a tight bony face with thin pale skin. There were a few wisps of wiry gray hair sticking out from both sides of his head and he pulled at these irritably. A black gown was draped awkwardly over his shoulders. He had cold decaying gray eyes. Above the judge was a plaque. There was a picture on it of a Maori warrior and the pakeha Queen. Bethel had not intended to insult anyone by wearing his cap. He liked wearing his cap. It made him feel good, like he belonged to something. He glanced back at the court. His mates were there, all wearing their caps. He managed a smile.
    Bethel was charged with possession of cannabis and two tabs of LSD. The amount of cannabis was large and he was lucky not to be charged with possession for supply but he was young and a first offender. His mates told him that legal aid lawyers were crap, so he never bothered getting one.
    The judge stared at Bethel tapping his pen on the bench top. He had not read the report. He did not need to. He had read thousands like it.
    "You think you are clever wearing your cap in here and giggling with your mates at the back of the court," the judge said quietly.
    "No sir," Bethel murmured.
    "Don't argue with me." Carl looked down at the report. "Drugs," he said with disgust. "No doubt you know something about that commotion outside the building."
    "No sir."
    "Have you been advised of your right to a lawyer?"
    "Yes."
    Carl's eyes brightened.
    "The courts did not create the drug laws. Parliament did.
    We simply uphold those laws. And uphold them I will. You are sentenced to six months imprisonment on the possession of cannabis charge and nine months on the LSD possession charge, to be served concurrently. Well under the maximums that I could have imposed, I might note."
    A few of Bethel's mates yelled out their disapproval from the rear of the courtroom.
    "May your case send a message to those outside. The courts will uphold the laws of this country and will not be swayed by pressure groups. Very well."
    Bethel was led away with his head down. He showed no emotion.
    Next up was a petite blonde girl. She was young and pretty. The judge studied her. He sat up straighter and smiled at her. She had driven intoxicated in a dangerous manner, going on to a footpath in town. When stopped by the traffic cops she had become abusive and needed to be restrained. In the process she had punched and bitten one of them. Her blood alcohol level had been twice the legal limit. She had applied for legal aid but this was declined as the charges were not serious enough and there was no likelihood of jail. The duty solicitor told her that Carl was a prick and advised her to say nothing unless asked, to always refer to him as 'Your Honour ' and to agree with anything he said.
    "Do you understand these charges?" Judge Carl asked softly as if he were addressing a five year old. She nodded shyly and smiled.
    "Have you spoken to a lawyer about this?"
    "Yes Your Honour."
    Carl had not read this report either. He looked down at the front of the report then looked down at the prosecuting sergeant and smiled slightly.
    "One too many was it?" he asked her, still smiling.
    She smiled back at him shyly. "Yes Your Honour." She held her hands together in front of her and her body swayed from side to side. She giggled.
    "Well, this was naughty. I trust we will not see you back here again?"
    "No Your Honour. I am very sorry."
    "Very well, fined one hundred and eighty dollars on the excess blood alcohol charge, and eighty dollars on the resisting and assault charges."
    She thanked him, and was about to leave the dock when the prosecuting sergeant rose to his feet.
    "Excuse me sir?"
    "Yes?"
    "I was wondering about the disqualification sir."
    "What about it? Oh yes, very well." He faced the girl. "The law says I must also disqualify you from driving or holding a drivers license for a period of six months."
    She nodded then left.
    "Henry Blafe followed by Geoffrey Dalberg," said the court taker.
    Oh no, thought Pringle. Not now! There are still too many lawyers in the court. And the Crown. He fidgeted with his notes. He tried to smooth his hair back with his hand but as usual the court stress had made it go all tough and wiry. He trembled. He organized his notes and scanned them again. Why couldn't it have been Ballow? Or Diamond even? For God's sake pull yourself together you asshole! You're not going to make a fool of yourself! You are not going to stammer or stutter. You are not going to go blank or get flustered by his antics. No, you are going to be fine. Hate it! Treat it like a chore. That will get rid of the shivering.
    "Geoffrey Dalberg," said the taker.
    OK. Here I come. Here I come you bastard Carl! Pringle stood confidently to face the judge.
    Geoffrey Dalberg went to jail.






    4


    Beverly Prentice was short, plump and forty-six. She had a large black mole just above her top lip on the left side of her face. Three black hairs grew from it. When she had been younger she used to pluck these out. Often this had been very painful and occasionally caused bleeding. But they always grew back.
    She lived with her fifteen year old daughter Rebecca. Mrs. Prentice worked in a clothing factory. Rebecca occasionally worked part-time as a waitress in a restaurant just down the road. Money was tight. They were always struggling to make the mortgage, but they survived. It was a big year for Rebecca. She had her school certificate examinations.
    Her father, John Prentice had separated from her mother years before. He had spent a lot of time overseas as he was in the navy. Now he had retired from the navy and returned, not only to New Zealand, but to live in Glenthorpen itself. He had recently contacted Mrs. Prentice, whom he never divorced.
    Mrs. Prentice was cooking dinner in the kitchen. Rebecca was supposed to be helping but read a magazine and chewed celery. Rebecca had shoulder length black hair with a thin face and dark eyes. She was pretty. Her mother always told her she was too thin.
    "You should ring him back Rebecca," said Mrs. Prentice.
    "Why should I?"
    "He's your father."
    "Ha, that's a joke. I don't even know him. He's like a total stranger to me. He ran out on us, remember? How can you be so soft on him? It makes me sick."
    "One of us had to leave. You were too young to remember. He was never that bad. Just honest, that's all."
    "Bullshit!"
    "Don't use that language."
    "I know what he was like."
    "Please ring him back."
    "No."
    "Give him a chance. Everyone deserves a chance."
    "Not tonight."
    "Tomorrow then?"
    "Maybe."
    Rebecca got another bit of celery from the salad bowl and went back to reading her magazine.




    5


    Pringle sipped at his first coffee of the day and vacantly flipped the pages of a file over and back. He had an easy day ahead of him, no court and only one client in the afternoon. They were the best days.
    Vanessa, his personal secretary, knocked, then entered his office. She wanted to catch up on the filing. He liked her. She was not that bright, but sweet. He could talk freely with her. She was attractive too, with pretty light-brown eyes and nice tits. He figured she had a crush on him. She had a boyfriend, but he was a loser. He had pimples and greasy hair and talked mostly about car engines and tires.
    Filing was distracting and made him uncomfortable. She often wore short black leather skirts, despite reprimands from Dodds. When filing she laid all the pages out on the floor in alphabetical order, got the files from the cabinets, then returned to the pages and filed. This would involve a lot of bending and it was not uncommon for him to glance up and catch flashes of her panties. Today she wore pink ones. Worse, during the process, she would often make these funny little moaning noises. And some days he was sure she smelt like sex. But it was the tits that got him. They were huge.
    They exchanged some small talk. She smiled to him as she left his office.
    She returned about ten minutes later holding a bundle of files. She had an uncomfortable apprehensive look.
    "Um, Dodds just rang." She gently put the files on his desk. "He can't make it in this morning."
    Oh no, he thought. "Yes?"
    "There's Family Court chambers this morning. He wants you to get adjournments on his matters." She looked relieved that she had got it out.
    Pringle looked at his watch. It was nine fifteen. Family Court chambers started at nine thirty.
    "No! No, that fucking wanker!"
    Vanessa looked at the ground.
    "I'm sorry."
    "That's OK." She looked like she wanted to say something else. Pringle took a deep breath. She left him with the files.
    He hurried to the family court. Fortunately it was only a few hundred meters from their offices. He hated family court chambers. He always felt people were gossiping about Dodds. Flint called it the 'fanny court' due to the high numbers of female lawyers. Flint was a gossip too. He had filled Pringle in on Dodds. Apparently just before Pringle had arrived, Dodds had fired two support staff for allegedly talking about him fucking his secretary. Flint said he used to just pull the blinds and do it right in his office. His wife had found out and the secretary left to go to another firm in town. Pringle had seen her at Tyrone, Dodds & Co. She just wandered straight in like she owned the place. Pringle had thought it odd that Dodds never introduced her to him. Pringle had met Dodd's wife. She was devoted to him. She seemed nice, as did his three young kids. And the strange thing was his wife was far more attractive than the secretary.
    Pringle survived the family court list. The files were mainly domestic violence. He got most of the adjournments but some orders were made against two of Dodd's clients. The judge was sympathetic. As he left the court building some eccentric lawyer came up to him, introduced himself, then told him to watch his back. He seemed bitter. It annoyed Pringle.
    Back at the office it looked like Dodd's was not going to show for the day. He was always involved in a new deal, whether it be buying some property, or getting into a racehorse syndicate. He was always looking for new ways to make money. There used to be a Tyrone but he had left the firm years before. Dodds liked the name, said it had solidity and masculine power, so he kept it.
    That afternoon Pringle got a call from a family law partner from one of the larger firms in town. He offered Pringle a job. He told Pringle he had heard good things about him and the way he handled himself in court. According to Flint, this was called poaching and was very common in town, especially when it concerned lawyers at Tyrone, Dodds & Co. Burke said about a quarter of all lawyers in town had once worked for Dodds. Pringle told the partner he would think about it.
    It was dark when he left the law offices. He felt tired and beaten when he returned to his flat in his old white Hillman Hunter. The car had got him through university well enough but now he had to tie two of the doors to prevent them opening when he went around sharp bends. He lived in a square block of flats. It was three floors, with three flats on each. They were all the same. Seven lonely people, of varying ages and one couple. Their block marked the end of the residential area. It overlooked an industrial yard and a disused railway track.
    As he unlocked his door he saw a young guy with a red baseball cap caught in sweeping car headlight beams as he swiftly crossed the railway tracks. He disappeared back into the darkness.
    The flat was cold. He put on the small white fan heater, then went to the fridge. There was some chicken and salad left over from dinner the night before. He buttered some bread and made two large sandwiches.
    He watched television for a few hours. Mindless game shows but it passed the time.
    It was late when he went to bed but he could not sleep. His mind was too active. Should he change firms? So soon? He stared at the ceiling. A shadow was coming off the light shade. It looked like a huge spider towering over him.
    His hand brushed over his groin. He stroked his balls gently. They were swollen. He had not come for a week. His cock grew swiftly. He pulled off his underpants. He thought about Vanessa as he stroked his cock. He thought about those panties, all soiled and sweaty. He could almost smell them. He started to salivate. His cock felt huge and hot and ached.
    He put his fingers in his mouth and retrieved a glob of thick sticky saliva. He rubbed it slowly around the tight skin of his knob. So slowly. It was agony. He moaned. Vanessa was bending over again. Those dirty panties. And she was moaning. He could not control himself. He got out of his chair and moved towards her. He gently placed his hand on her fleshy mound and stroked it gently. She said nothing. He violently pulled her panties down around her ankles. She stepped out of them. And there it was. What a beautiful sight. Her cunt, glistening wet. Just waiting for him. He bumped his crotch against her ass then pulled her top off exposing those huge mounds of flesh. She still said nothing. More saliva. He was going to explode.
    He gently opened her up with his fingers. She was hot and slippery. He could smell it. And then he was inside her. That bitch Vanessa, she deserved it. Flashing her cunt to him all day long. He was really going to give it to her. He thrust into her violently.
    All of a sudden, she yelled out, "Come on my tits! Come on my tits!"
    He threw her on to the office floor. She still had the black leather skirt on. He straddled her body, placed his slippery cock between her tits and squeezed. She watched and moaned as he fucked them. Her nipples were erect and huge and purple. And then it happened. He spurted hot white come all over her tits and onto her purple nipples like his cock was a glue gun. He rubbed the sticky white globs over her pink flesh with it.
    His stomach muscles tightened until there was pain. He pumped blood into his knob. He felt the veins expanding and tightening. His body rose up. Hot semen pumped into his hand. His body remained off the bed for some time as it shuddered. Then he sunk back down. He lay there for a minute staring at the ceiling again. Poor Vanessa lay on the ground moaning and massaging his come into her tits before it dried and crusted.
    He could smell the sharpness of his come. He reached out for a sock on the floor and wiped his limp cock. Soon he fell asleep.
    Some hours later he awoke, out of a dream. There was a strange sound. A tapping. He glanced at his alarm clock. It was three thirty six. He groaned. The tapping did not stop, just got faster. It seemed to be coming from the floor. He got out of bed and felt for the light switch. Once the light was on and his eyes adjusted he could see a wet patch on the carpet. Drips of water were coming through the ceiling.
    He pulled on some jeans and a shirt and went outside. The air was cold. A siren faded in the distance. He climbed the concrete steps to the next floor. He went to the room directly above his. It was dark inside and quiet. He knocked on the glass sliding door. No response. He banged loudly. No sound. He stared at the city lights for a moment, thinking. He went back down to his room. He decided to try the agent who let him his flat. He found a number in the telephone book but got the answer phone when he rang. He tried ringing the police and got put through to the watch house. Some constable told him there was no one available to come out.
    "I mean, you could try and get in using force but hey, that didn't come from me."
    He went back up the stairs. He banged and yelled but there was no movement. He tried the door. It was locked. He tried the windows but they were firmly latched. He stood thinking. He put his ear to the glass. Strangely he heard the same dripping noise that woke him up except it was louder. He looked up at the next floor. There was light and he could hear music. He climbed the last flight of steps to the top floor. He knocked on the door. Again, no response. But there was music. He peered through the glass. There was a guy on the bed, face down. He banged on the door but the guy did not stir. He slid open the door and went inside. The music was loud. The guy was dressed for the town. There was a pool of water inches deep in the kitchen covering the linoleum.
    "Hey mate! Mate!"
    The guy still did not respond. He was fucked.
    Pringle went through the kitchen. The bathroom had deep water in it. The shower was on and a flannel was blocking the plug. He turned the shower off, walked through the water again. Must have been a good night, he thought as he walked past the guy. He slid the door shut, then returned to his bed. He watched the spider on the ceiling again for a time. Now it was more like an octopus. Things had to get better soon.






    6


    It was Friday night. A time to dilute the blood, loosen the rusting mind and float blissfully, down the deep river of inebriation. Pringle was about to dive in. He was at a student bar called the Chaos Drain with Mike and Sam, two of his surfing mates. Mike and Sam were both well over six feet tall and solidly built. They frequented the Drain as the beer was cheap and on a Friday night there were always hoards of young naive pretty student girls. For many it was their first real exposure to alcohol and absolute freedom. So they were easy to score, especially at the end of the night when they had gulped a skin-full of leg openers.
    Most of the first year male students still looked like schoolboys. Many were virgins. They clumsily attempted to balance the development of their social skills and pick-up techniques, while bonding with their fellows and overcoming their fear of women, by getting puke drunk as rapidly as possible. Being far more mature and worldly gave one a distinct advantage at the Chaos Drain.
    The bar was loud with music and chatter and there was a permanent haze of cigarette smoke. The Hoodoo Gurus song 'What's My Scene' started to play. The three sat at a table on a raised part of the floor that looked down upon the main dance area. Across the dance floor there was another raised level and at the rear of that a huge video screen. They said little as they watched.
    It was Pringle's turn to buy a round. Without a word he stood and carefully collected the three empty plastic jugs and headed towards the mass of people between their table and the bar. It was imperative to gather the jugs the moment the last one was emptied. Saying nothing and acting sober during this act was also crucial. These things were part of the code.
    As he bumped and weaved through the crowd he felt self-conscious. Not a great amount. It was the last remnant of the working week. It had to go. Another jug of Red would take care of it. Maybe two.
    Pringle was not short. But at the bar he did not get served quickly. Again that was the self-consciousness. It gave him time to consider buying some food in addition to the beer. He bought three packets of salt and vinegar potato chips. Spontaneity was an advanced part of the code. The boys would be impressed.
    He balanced the three jugs and chip packets and negotiated the crowd. The code did not tolerate major spillage; in fact that was one of the worst breaches. He managed and felt relieved. He neared the table. With excitement he discovered that Mike and Sam had been joined by four girls. One of them was a total pog, two of them were a bit chunky and plain but had big tits and the one talking to Mike was a stunner. She had shoulder length black hair and her skin was very tanned.
    Pringle placed the jugs and chips carefully on the table in front of Mike. He ignored him, took a jug, saw the chips and grabbed a packet. A look of glee filled his eyes. "Chips!" was all he said. Pringle nodded. Mike turned back to the dark haired girl. Sam was talking to the other three, making them laugh. Pringle poured a glass of Red and sipped slowly. He turned to the big screen.
    Someone hit him hard on the shoulder causing him to spill his drink. He turned with annoyance. It was Mike.
    "Pringle!" said Mike. "This is James Pringle. Just call him Pringle, everyone else does. Pringle meet Leilani."
    Pringle smiled and took her hand. Something radiated from her. He felt it instantly as he shook her gentle hand and looked into her eyes. It was like the energy of the earth was sparking through her soul and though her dark brown eyes did not attempt to conceal this, they only shyly exposed it. And what eyes! A drunken man could drown in those wonderful pools of beauty and still end with wisdom and joy.
    "Hi."
    "Hello James."
    She smiled and said nothing else. She turned back to face Mike. Her disinterest in him made her more attractive.
    "Pringle's a lawyer. Going to be famous one day," said Mike proudly.
    "Really?" she asked. She smiled again.
    Pringle nodded coolly.
    "And what do you do Mike?" she asked.
    Pringle went back to watching the drunk people.
    Three rounds later everyone was in good form and the atmosphere at the table was jovial. The girls were all third year English students except one of the two plain girls. She was studying acting. Pringle stayed away from Leilani but as he drank more found himself taking frequent glances at her. She was beautiful. There was no doubt. She drank Southern Comfort with Lemon and Paeroa and plenty of ice. Mike and Sam decided they were pissed enough to head to the dance floor. They both stood, swaying slightly, with big smiles.
    "Come for a dance!" Mike said to Leilani.
    She considered this for a moment. "I want to dance with James," she said.
    A warm feeling formed in Pringle's gut. He scanned the dance floor with his hazel eyes. "Maybe later," he said casually. The booze had given him power.
    "Please yourselves," said Mike, seeming unfazed. He staggered off with Sam. The other three girls followed. Leilani and Pringle watched them go. They looked at each other and smiled.
    "Did you go to school with them?" she asked.
    "No. I surf with them. I met them when I moved here about six months ago."
    "A lawyer who surfs?"
    "Everyone says that. We're just normal people, you know?"
    "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
    "No. That's cool. It's just a sport. I was lucky enough to grow up near a beach up north. Most kids surf there."
    "You guys don't look like surfers. You know bleached hair and all that?"
    "Nah, probably not. But it's great surfing with those guys. Like a couple of gorillas, you know, they're huge. Out in the water if anyone hassles me, I just paddle over to those two and go, 'you got a problem buddy?' Hey, no problem!"
    He loved her laugh.
    "They're good guys, you know?"
    "They seem nice."
    They watched the dance floor.
    "So where are you from?" he asked.
    "Um, originally I was born in Madrid. Came over here when I was ten. Lived in Glenthorpen pretty much ever since."
    "Yeah? I was born in England. Came over when I was eight."
    "Have you been back?" she asked.
    "A couple of times."
    "You're lucky. I want to go back. Was it like home for you?"
    "No, not really. Well, parts of it did, you know, like it's in your system? Driving past a field or something, it all comes back. We grew up in the country. But I love New Zealand. It's beautiful, the people are friendly. You realize that more when you travel I think."
    "Do they whinge as much as they say? The English I mean."
    "Yeah. It's the weather I guess. Gloomy, most of the time. I do miss some things about England."
    "I miss things about Spain. Or at least I think I do. Seems like another world now. There's the music, the dancing and the smells. The food. The people are friendly. I spent a lot of time with my grandmother when I grew up. My mother died when I was very young."
    "I'm sorry."
    "No, it's OK. I don't really remember her much. I came out here with my father. My grandmother lives near Alicante, in a beautiful little town by the sea. But she's getting very old and I want to visit her as soon as I can. My father and I don't get on. I haven't seen him for a few years."
    Pringle nodded. "I have memories of snow in winter. And Christmas shopping in London. Christmas lights in London, now that’s really something. It's just not the same here."
    "Did you know Santa is an anagram of Satan?"
    "No. Yeah, you're right." He thought it an odd comment.
    There was a period of silence. A friend of hers came to the table. They seemed to know each other well. He left the table to get more drinks. This time he charged through the crowd. As he waited to be served he noticed a familiar face at the opposite end of the bar. It was Matt Chase, a young crown prosecutor. He was friendly and easygoing. Unusual traits for a crown lawyer. But then he had not practiced for long. He was classically good looking. The sort that attracted women on sight. He was tall and solid with short black hair and dark eyes. He was the kind of guy you would think had it all. He acted like he had nothing.
    Pringle wandered down and joined him.
    "Matt."
    "Pringle!"
    "Hey Matt."
    "How's it going man?"
    "Yeah good mate."
    "How's it with you?" asked Pringle.
    "Work sucks man." He was drinking whiskey and slurring. "Fucking crown lawyers! They're so staunch. Win, win, win, that's all they care about. I'm sick of them with their stupid little jokes. They all think they're perfect. I don't know if I can cut it mate."
    "It's still early days."
    "Yeah, I suppose. I just don't care anymore."
    "My job sucks too."
    "Yeah?"
    "You must have heard about Dodd's reputation? He's a prick most of the time."
    "Yeah man, I've heard all the stories. Crown lawyers gossip like women. Didn't you know that? But I tell ya', my bosses respect his ability. They reckon he's one of the best trial lawyers in town and one hell of a negotiator. Lawyers might laugh behind his back but when they meet him face-to-face he sends them home crying to Mama. You could learn a lot from a guy like that."
    "Yeah, I guess I know all that. But he can be such a nasty prick to work for. Not all the time. Part of me actually likes the bastard. Feel a stupid sense of loyalty to him. He's a square peg, you know? That's been me most of my life I guess. If a client really pisses me off I tell him and he just goes, 'get rid of the prick,' without questioning my judgment. I don't know man. They say you shouldn't go changing firms too early."
    "We're both fucked. Let's drink to that."
    They got their drinks. Pringle kept an eye on Leilani. Mike and Sam and the girls had returned to the table.
    "Law mate," said Matt. "Why did we do it?" He stared vacantly at his own reflection in the bar mirror.
    "I know what you mean," replied Pringle. "When I was at school I wanted to be a writer. I really did. But my mother said there was no money in it. And that was that. A five-minute conversation with my old lady and my life was decided. I wanted to travel when I graduated but I was too broke. And now here I am. It's not so bad I guess. What about you Matt? Did you always want to be a lawyer? Chase?"
    "I'm sorry man what was that?"
    "It doesn't matter. I better be getting back. Are you here with someone?"
    "No."
    "I'm with some friends. Come and meet them."
    "Aw, I dunno, I'll probably pick up something."
    "They're cool, honestly. No lawyers I promise. Come on, just for a drink or two."
    "Arr... what the hell? All right. The more the merrier."
    They headed back to the table. Matt spilled most of his drink, accelerating and decelerating in bursts as he followed. At the table, they discovered the plain girls and the pog wanted to go to a party down the road. Mike and Sam decided to join them. Leilani, Matt and Pringle decided they could not be bothered and decided to stay in the Drain. Mike got Pringle in a playful headlock as he went to leave.
    "Six o'clock tomorrow brother. It's three meters with south easterlies. We'll pick you up. See you then." He looked at Leilani then gave Pringle a wink. "Have a good night."
    "Six o'clock? Are they serious?" asked Leilani.
    "Deadly serious."
    The five of them left. Matt suggested rounds of B52's to finish off the night. He insisted on showing the barmaid the correct way of layering the mixture of Baileys, Cointreau and Kailua with a teaspoon. He returned with the three drinks and a big smile. Leilani left them to go for a piss.
    "She's amazing mate. Likes you too," said Matt.
    "Yeah, she is, isn't she?"
    "Man, I'll give you some advice for free, go for it! Those who hesitate, masturbate, as the saying goes. You lucky bastard."
    "Matt, I've seen the girls you dump."
    "Yeah, but they're mostly brainless, or shallow. She's bright and beautiful."
    "Here she comes."
    Leilani returned. They both smiled. "What?" she said eventually.
    "Nothing. Sorry, private joke," said Pringle.
    They sculled the B52's. They tasted great.
    "Do you guys want to go outside for a smoke?" she asked them.
    "You can smoke in here," answered Matt.
    She laughed. "Funny. Do you want to or not?"
    "Er, Matt I don't think she means tobacco."
    "Ohhh... righhht. Yeah, cool, let's go!"
    "You have to forgive us naive lawyers," said Pringle.
    The bar was closing. The music had stopped. Their ears were ringing. They moved outside. The air was fresh and cool. They went to the side car park and found an area of darkness. Matt stumbled off for a piss. Drunk people exited the Drain, some in groups, some on their own. Pringle and Leilani watched them. He noticed her shivering.
    "You're shivering," he said.
    "Mmm. It's cold."
    He clumsily put his arm around her. He smelt her scent. She turned to face him and kissed him on the lips. She giggled then pulled away slightly, trapping his bottom lip between her lips as she did. He tasted her lipstick. He was speechless. Matt stumbled back. She pulled away from Pringle, smiling at him as she did. She pulled the joint out from her front jeans pocket. Then she placed it in her mouth moistening the paper with her saliva. They both watched her closely and said nothing. She lit it and the familiar earthy smell filled the air. After they had finished it they stood silent for a time remarking on how cold it was. Then Pringle said something that caused them all to laugh. Chase gave them a few of his views on life. It was good to laugh. They all agreed on that. The sky was clear. The stars looked amazing. A dog howled like a wolf in the distance. Pringle thought about the dog and how it was confused by it's own existence in the city. His mind wandered.
    Leilani took Pringle's hand in hers. Matt felt uncomfortable. He thanked her for the smoke, said he would try to find a taxi then left them. They watched him go. After a few steps he stopped, then turned to face them.
    "Hey Pringle, hang in there man."
    "You too Matt," replied Pringle.
    Matt got around the first corner then went straight to his parked car and drove off very slowly.
    "I know him from somewhere," said Leilani.
    Some drunken guy got thrown out of the bar by two bouncers. He landed heavily on the concrete ground outside the doors. The two of them kicked him while he was on the ground. He tried to cover his head with his hands. While they kicked him one of them yelled, "Yeah? Yeah?" over and over. Pringle held Leilani's hand tightly.
    The two bouncers grew tired, then stopped. They were both puffing. They left him and locked the bar door behind them. Eventually the guy got up. He had blood on his face and hands. He murmured something, then wandered off. He yelled out at some people further up the road. They ignored him and walked away faster into the darkness.
    "Can you walk me home?" she asked in a serious tone. "I live close to here."
    They said little as they walked. They reached her place. She lived in a house split into two flats. She had the front flat. She thanked him, then kissed him once more, without the lip pull thing.
    "Goodnight James."
    He managed to deduce that she was not inviting him in. She gave him one last smile then turned to walk down her path. He tried to clear his mind, in a state of panic.
    "Wait!"
    She turned.
    "Can I see you again?"
    She gave him a mischievous smile then thought for a moment.
    "I'll ring you," she said.
    "Do you want my number?"
    "I'll find you."
    "OK. Goodnight then. It was nice to meet you."
    "Goodnight James."
    Then she gave him a look. It was a look that carried a message. He thought a lot about that look and the message it carried, with his busy mind, as he hurried home through the misty cold darkness, with his hands dug deep in his warm pockets and concluded painfully that he would never see her again.









    7


    The loony was defending himself. The charge was indecent exposure. Constables Left and Right were both giving evidence. This was the only defended hearing before the main list.
    Senior Sergeant Blake was prosecuting the case. He was a tall, powerful looking man. A fair man, he was respected by both police and lawyers. He had sad eyes. Like life was getting the better of him but only just. Rumour had it that his son was a glue sniffer and had died on the streets. Blake gave the constables a final briefing. A few lawyers sat in, waiting for the undefended list.
    Judge Diamond was announced and entered the courtroom. Everyone stood, everyone sat. The loony's case was called.
    Blake appeared. Constables Left and Right came forward and took a seat next to him at the front of the court. Judge Diamond recognized them immediately. His cheeks started to burn.
    "Ready to proceed sir. Two witnesses for the prosecution," said Blake. "Charge of indecent exposure."
    "Is this your idea of a joke sergeant?"
    "I beg your pardon sir?"
    "Be careful sergeant. Be very careful."
    Blake thought hard, could not find a solution, so continued.
    "As I said sir, defended hearing, defendant is representing himself."
    The loony came forward and introduced himself to the court. Judge Diamond stared at him. He felt sick.
    There was a long pause. Constables Left and Right looked at each other and giggled.
    "Very well!" the judge snapped. "Proceed!"
    Sergeant Blake called his first witness. Judge Diamond regained composure. But when the evidence included words such as "exposed male genitalia" and "semi-erect penis" he squirmed and shuffled in his seat and his vulnerable brown eyes flickered nervously about the courtroom. Judge Diamond hated sex cases. But as always, he endured.
    Pringle and Flint entered the courtroom. Judge Diamond was delivering his judgment convicting the loony. They sat giggling at parts of the decision.
    The defended cases were called in alphabetical order. A tall thin lawyer with curly black hair and a light grey suit, vacated his seat in the courtroom and stood, then stared at the rear of the court. He looked agitated. His face was gaunt and he had deep-set dark eyes. Dozens of blank faces stared back at him from the public gallery. He appeared to be searching for someone. Eventually, he sighed, then hurriedly exited the rear of the court.
    Outside the courtroom he searched frantically for his client. He was not in the waiting area. He burst through the main exit doors. Many people were passing time on the concrete steps but not his client. Panic was starting to set in. His case would be called soon. Oh God, not again! Please let this one be here!
    He went back to the courtroom. Before he got there his case was called. He crossed the bar, bowing to the judge quickly, then placed his briefcase on a spare place on one of the benches.
    "I appear sir."
    "Thank you Mr. Zane."
    Zane turned and faced the courtroom door, willing it to open. There was a long pause.
    "Please call him again," asked Zane in a calm tone.
    The court-taker obliged. The whole court watched the door in silence. Remarkably, the door did open. His spirits lifted. An obese tattooed Maori walked through the door. He looked up, realized that everyone was watching him, gave a nervous chuckle then retreated to a seat in the gallery. Pringle and Flint giggled again. It was not Zane's client. Attention now shifted to him. He was beaten, once again.
    "I have not seen my client this morning sir."
    "Thank you Mr. Zane. Very well."
    "Seek a warrant sir," prosecuting Sergeant Blake requested lethargically.
    "Yes sergeant. Warrant to arrest to issue."
    "As Your Honour pleases," said Zane. He bowed to the judge disconsolately, before exiting the court.
    Flint, who had been studying Zane very carefully, marveled at the way he said, "as Your Honour pleases." Flint practiced saying those words in front of the mirror at home. He had thought, "may it please Your Honour," sounded better, but now he wasn't so sure. He leaned close to Pringle.
    "Isn't he amazing?" he whispered.
    "Who?"
    "Zane."
    "Why?"
    "Apparently he's never had a client front up. And he's considered the best lawyer in town because of it."
    "What?"
    They both checked the judge wasn't watching them.
    "Because," whispered Flint, "because he's never lost a case, that’s why."
    "But he never wins any either."
    "That's not the point," replied Flint arrogantly. "Anyone can win a case Pringle, but Zane never gets the decision he does not want. And that's a double negative. So it follows that Zane always gets the decision he wants." Flint pulled away for a moment when he noticed the judge noticing them. "After all," he said when it was safe, "how many lawyers do you know who have never lost a case?"
    "Well, none I suppose. He didn't look very happy about it."
    "Oh, that's all just part of his act, believe me. He's a pro. Ask any lawyer, or judge even, who the best lawyer in town is and I guarantee they'll say Zane."
    Judge Diamond looked at them again. Pringle looked away. Flint pretended to read a file.
    "Even Botting," Flint continued, "himself, an exceptional lawyer, agrees that Zane is better than him and that he is only the second best lawyer in town. Botting is always trying to be more like Zane."
    "What makes Botting such a good lawyer?"
    "Botting? Because out of all the lawyers, he's on the most committees. Oh and because he calls judges by their first names."
    "How can that make him the second best lawyer in town?
    "How else would he have got on so many committees?" asked Flint, as if the answer would have been simple to a child. "And how else would he be allowed to call judges by their first names at social events?"
    "Why do lawyers want to do that so much?"

    doctor_sloppy

    Posts : 3
    Join date : 2010-09-30

    Re: Arrest me Rob!!

    Post  doctor_sloppy on Thu Sep 30, 2010 1:09 am

    Oh shit!

    It's the FBI knocking at my door! I guess when you play with matches you get burnt!!

    I shoult never have messed with the great Robert Black!

    Tribble Dick

    Posts : 134
    Join date : 2010-09-11

    Re: Arrest me Rob!!

    Post  Tribble Dick on Thu Sep 30, 2010 1:26 am

    <<<< stalk >>>> <<<<stalk>>>> <<<< stalk >>>>

    Banasty

    Posts : 981
    Join date : 2010-09-09

    Re: Arrest me Rob!!

    Post  Banasty on Thu Sep 30, 2010 1:32 am

    It seems to have brought more people into the forum.
    17 now.
    Maybe Sciency should be giving RB a commission now.
    Can't wait to read chapter 8.

    Razz

    Banasty

    Posts : 981
    Join date : 2010-09-09

    Re: Arrest me Rob!!

    Post  Banasty on Thu Sep 30, 2010 1:58 am

    Actually RB says I can post some chapters of his new book here, if Sciency allows. He says he is going to put it online anyway.
    Check out the thread, called Snakes & Ladders.

    TobbyG

    Posts : 277
    Join date : 2010-09-15

    Re: Arrest me Rob!!

    Post  TobbyG on Thu Sep 30, 2010 1:59 am

    I can't be the only one who gets the feeling this will end with ass rape!

    TobbyG

    Posts : 277
    Join date : 2010-09-15

    Re: Arrest me Rob!!

    Post  TobbyG on Thu Sep 30, 2010 2:00 am

    I can't be the only one who gets the feeling this will end with ass rape!
    avatar
    Psioncy

    Posts : 6517
    Join date : 2010-05-02

    Re: Arrest me Rob!!

    Post  Psioncy on Thu Sep 30, 2010 2:02 am

    Post away! Original writing is highly encouraged here.

    I'd put some of my work up, but I think it needs an extensive rewrite first, since I can't make sense of a lot of it myself.

    Banasty

    Posts : 981
    Join date : 2010-09-09

    Re: Arrest me Rob!!

    Post  Banasty on Thu Sep 30, 2010 2:07 am

    I put it in General Discussion.
    Still rough first draft but yeah be cool if others could follow.


    Last edited by Banasty on Thu Sep 30, 2010 2:11 am; edited 1 time in total

    Banasty

    Posts : 981
    Join date : 2010-09-09

    Re: Arrest me Rob!!

    Post  Banasty on Thu Sep 30, 2010 2:10 am

    I guess the poodles will cut and paste it all over TBJ and mock the shit out of it as they do.

    But hey, get's it out there for him.
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    Psioncy

    Posts : 6517
    Join date : 2010-05-02

    Re: Arrest me Rob!!

    Post  Psioncy on Thu Sep 30, 2010 2:20 am

    Pfffff.... I'd like to see one of them do *better*.

    C_Z actually wrote some stuff that wasn't half bad on TNM... otherwise I don't think any of them have any chance in hell of giving you a run for your money -so bitter sidelining is the about only option they have to fall back on.
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    Psioncy

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    Join date : 2010-05-02

    Re: Arrest me Rob!!

    Post  Psioncy on Thu Sep 30, 2010 2:25 am

    So before any of you fuckers accuse me of playing favorites, all I have to say is post YOUR novel on SK, and see if there just isn't a sticky in it for you as well tongue

    Tribble Dick

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    Join date : 2010-09-11

    Re: Arrest me Rob!!

    Post  Tribble Dick on Thu Sep 30, 2010 3:02 am

    Smile

    Banasty

    Posts : 981
    Join date : 2010-09-09

    Re: Arrest me Rob!!

    Post  Banasty on Thu Sep 30, 2010 9:39 pm

    The Control Sickness was Rob's first novella. It was only ever published as an e-book in Australia. A small independant publisher in New Zealand liked it with an added second half but about a week before it went to the printers RB had a huge fight with them, abused the fuck out of them via drunken emails and they cancelled his contract. He he was later gutted as it was a break for him to get a first novel published without him paying that he fucked up badly but said in hindsight he is pleased as it was too short and the second half didn't really match the first half and he will rewrite it as his third novel by changing it to first person narrative, and rewriting the second half entirely but keeping it's satirical nature and publishing it in NZ.

    I think it will be quite good.

    TobbyG

    Posts : 277
    Join date : 2010-09-15

    Re: Arrest me Rob!!

    Post  TobbyG on Thu Sep 30, 2010 11:01 pm

    Banasty wrote:The Control Sickness was Rob's first novella. It was only ever published as an e-book in Australia. A small independant publisher in New Zealand liked it with an added second half but about a week before it went to the printers RB had a huge fight with them, abused the fuck out of them via drunken emails and they cancelled his contract. He he was later gutted as it was a break for him to get a first novel published without him paying that he fucked up badly but said in hindsight he is pleased as it was too short and the second half didn't really match the first half and he will rewrite it as his third novel by changing it to first person narrative, and rewriting the second half entirely but keeping it's satirical nature and publishing it in NZ.

    I think it will be quite good.


    Good work, but not as good as Hewo's novel about trying to marry a rich Chinese girl, locking himself in a room all day, crying about his father tickling his ass, and fabricating stories of rape while snorting ecstasy he purchased of the "African scum" drug dealers. Only his distempered doggies can relate to him!

    He knows she isn't going to stick around!
    He knows she flirts at work (especially to foreign men)!


    Hewo is fervently anti-American, anti-Black, anti- Catholic, anti-Jewish, anti-Jehovah witness, and oddly enough anti-Chinese! It will wreck what little of a career he has when people find out who the retarded hick really is!

    I won't tell, but I can't promise "they" won't!



    Banasty

    Posts : 981
    Join date : 2010-09-09

    Re: Arrest me Rob!!

    Post  Banasty on Fri Oct 01, 2010 9:31 pm

    Yes I heard he hates Chinese and loves Japanese people.
    I think I read it on the internet somewhere.

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