Ficlets

The judge slammed the gavel down and screamed at the District Attorney, “objection sustained.”

I smiled discretely at the old man in black robes. That damed D.A. was trying to prove that I was driving drunk and my court appointed lawyer wasn’t doing much to defend me. The judge practically had to tell my lawyer when to object.

The D.A. was good but the judge was on my side.

I bumped into him yesterday on Middle Street - totally by accident of course - and we stuck up a brief conversation. I spent two hours with him last night at the Quality Inn just outside of town.

He’d better be on my side.