25 April 2011

Court Date

This is not the kind of Date you want to go on. No sir. No ma’am. Not nobody.

Take a handful of random strangers. Let them make completely arbitrary decisions that adversely affect the rest of your life. One of them wears a black robe but is in no way saintly. When they pound a hammer, anything goes. Another character records every “ummm” you say during the Date on some kind of mute person’s typewriter. They mispronounce your name, even though you have been court dating for almost 9 months. Enough time to have a baby and they still can’t say your name right! I’d hate to think of their baby-naming talents. I’m not having my next child with this Date.

Let them charge you a lot of money, that it’s taken you 20 years to save, to tell you what to do. This is not a cheap Date. Hold on here - why am I paying someone to tell me what to do? I am old. I am wise. I am independent. Pay yourself first, as the saying goes. Well, not anymore. Court is bigger, stronger, faster. Sorry, I’m thinking Bionic Man. Court is not faster. It’s like dating a retarded dinosaur. So outmoded it should have been extinct eons ago. But painfully stupid (unnamed) people still rely on it to make decisions they don’t have the fortitude or wherewithal to make.

Its musty cologne is overpowering. The handcuffs are invisible. If you disobey (which I have a habit of doing every once in a while) you go to jail. So be an absolute ANGEL. Court Date means business. And that’s not funny business.

I’m on an everlasting Court Date. And it’s not true love always.

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