Note to the Reader: This story is one of wish-fulfillment. One of Goddess Marquesa’s favorite pass times. It is, of course, entirely fictional.
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“STOP! HOLD IT! PLEASE STOP! Stop right now. I don’t want him representing me!” If the defendant’s outcry doesn’t quite stun the courtroom, it certainly wakes it up. A loud outcry arises from the spectators and echoes through the space.
Bang! Bang! Bang! The judge’s gavel punctuates the outburst. “The defendant will come to order. Order in this courtroom.” To the defendant, “Sir, sit down and remain quiet!” Read more…
It started with a wrong number.
Clark was livid. Not that this was an unusual state for him to be in. Not at all. That was, ironically enough, really at the root of the current problem. Of course, with Clark, there was ALWAYS a problem, or a crisis or a situation, or SOMETHING that he (and ONLY he) could repair and set to right. This was because Clark was one of those self appointed “General Manager of the Universe” types who felt that no one else was really capable or competent enough to get the job done, and done right; whatever that job was. He was a stereotypical hard-charger who would never admit to meeting his match – even if he had! He was about to have his male ego’s perfect track record disrupted, however, and here is where our story begins. Here is where Clark’s reign as “Lord and Master of All He Surveys” would end, and he wouldn’t even know it. 
“Harlot!”
