Thank you your honor.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, sitting on a celebrity trial is never easy. The media scrutiny this case has received has been immense as evidenced by the record 4 jurors who have been excused over these past six weeks. In fact, it’s well known that finding the twelve of you to sit on this case was very difficult because of the far reaching fame of my client.

It is this fame. This ‘celebrity’ that has been foisted on my client because of his many years on television that I believe the only outcome you could possibly reach in this case is that my client is not guilty.

Now, over the past six weeks we’ve heard witness after witness come in here and describe the events of that fateful day. I want you to realize that through all the accusations, my client has never denied doing any of it.

Yes, my client did cause the disturbance that morning of May 20th at the Big K Market on Main Street. The disturbance that got so out of control it caused a gas main to rupture and start the five alarm fire. The very same fire that, before it could be controlled, while thankfully causing no personal injury, burned down the three adjacent storefronts. The fire that reduced to rubble not only The Big K, but also, Penelope’s Yoga Emporium, Sniggler’s Feed and Bait and The Come Clean Laundry and Dry Cleaners.

Yes, my client did, upon leaving the Big K, throw every magazine on the rack of Big Buddy’s Newsstand into the center of Main street whereupon the instant road slick caused a seven car pile up. An action that blocked off access to the area by the fire teams arriving to douse the rapidly spreading flames.

Yes, my client did upend Carson’s Taco and Dogs cart emptying the contents of said cart into the main rain runoff attracting the city’s population of rats which still infest the charred burnt out remains of our once glorious downtown area to this very day.

Yes, my client did knock Mrs. Fritchie out of her motorized wheelchair, steal her wig and begin to do a lascivious dance in front of her small pomeranian Digby. The effect of these actions have resulted in therapy bills for both Mrs. Fritche and Digby that have run into several thousands of dollars and will likely continue to accumulate in the years to come.

Yes, my client did knock out six of the arresting police officers, including Police Chief Pearson, before they were able to finally restrain him and even then, yes, my client caused $13,000 worth of damage to the back seat of patrol car 64.
Ladies and gentlemen, my client, who sits before you, shamed and remorseful, denies none of these actions. But, to you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury I say, the full brunt of the responsibility for the events of morning of May 20, 2009 do not rest solely on my client. In fact, I’m willing to go so far as to say that my client is not at fault at all.

No. I say the fault rests solely on the shoulders of the children. The children who were there in the Big K that morning especially to see my client. The children who knew, they very well knew, of my client’s addiction. His weakness. They had seen that very addiction played upon daily on their television screens at home. They knew the end result of their actions and as much as I’d hate to speak such ill of small children, I daresay they intended to feed on those very addictions on that morning to cause the very reaction they received.

In closing, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, when looking for blame in this case, do not look into the sorrowful eyes of my client. Look into the eyes and blackened souls of those children who were in the Big K Market that morning. The children who knew, that my client, is and was at the time, Coo Coo for Cocoa Puffs.

Hello from Washington, D.C.! I hope this message finds you well. Things here are crazy. I should have said no to this whole ‘being president’ thing. I’m tired of getting all gussied up and dealing with politicians all day! Give me the simple life! A fresh military uniform, a couple hundred men under my command, some Johnny Rebs to rout! Heh! Those were the days, my friend, those were they days.

So how are things out your way? I hope the “Badlands” are treating you well. Why do they call them the “Badlands” anyway? Sounds a bit unpleasant if you ask me. You know, if we’re going to really get this United States of America thing off the ground, we HAVE to start giving better names to things. It’s like we ran out of good names at Lake Superior. Do me a favor, while you’re out there, take a look around and see if there’s something else we could name that area after. Green Prarie? Rolling Hills of Montana? I don’t know, you’re out there, not me.

Along with this letter you should have received a case of this really fantastic whiskey I found. Oh, it is good stuff. Made by a guy in the south! Heh, those southern boys are good for something! Anyway, Julia’s been on me to stop drinking so much of it, but what does she know? She says I have a problem! I say I am the President of the United States of America! I can stop anytime I want! Abraham Lincoln never had any problem with my drinking and everybody thinks he walked on water! At any rate, the case is your with my compliments. Pass it around to the rest of your command, or not, it’s your call. You know what I’d do.

I tell you Custer, you take care of this little indian problem for us and you could quite possibly be sitting at this desk yourself! You gotta play your cards right though and we gotta keep that whole ‘you marrying a squaw and fathering two of her kids’ thing a secret, but I see big things for you in the future. The country needs men who – -

Sorry, I forgot what I was going to write there. Schuyler just came in here and told me the greatest joke! Why didn’t the indian cross the river? He had new moccasins and had reservations about getting them wet. Man, oh man, that man is funny! When you’re president, be sure to pick a VP with a sense of humor!

Anyway, the reason I’m writing is I wanted to apologize. Apparently we got some bad information and there MAY be a few more indians out there at Little Big Horn than we initially thought. You’ll probably want to hold off a day or two before clearing them out. I’m sending some extra guys over from Fort Lincoln but it’s gonna take them a bit to get to you.

Again, I’m sorry, I know how important correct military intelligence is to you. It’s something we’re working on here in Washington. Just hold off a day or two, sit back and drink some of that fine whiskey. Then, when reinforcements arrive, get out there and kick some redman butt!

Talk to you soon,

Ulysses

P.S. Reservations! I’m crying!

The chef got out the bread, peanut butter and jelly from the pantry and began work. The bread hit the plate. The peanut butter the bread. The jelly the peanut butter. The other piece of bread was placed on top and the sandwich was then cut in two.

The chef turned towards Jenny and as he set the plate down in front of her, she saw that they also had pastrami.

“Actually, I think it was more like a tick than a click.” Peterson responding chewing on the end of his left index finger. There was a moment of silence.

“Fine. I’ll try again and this time listen carefully.”

WHAM! CRASH! RATTLE!

Silence. Then…

“Click.”

“Tick.”

“Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!”

“Johnson, relax. It’s not the end of the world! We have time to get it right!”

“Don’t tell me to relax god dammit! It’s either a click or a tick! Listen to it again!”

WHAM!

A week later, the faucet was running a steady stream of warm water. Not wanting to bother the landlord, he’d gone down to Lowes and bought a new faucet. To install it, he had turned off the spigot under the sink. The stream did not stop. When the landlord was able to turn the water off to the building and Patrick was able replace the faucet and the spigot.

The next night the drip returned. A week later, the stream began again. It was then he realized….the water was sending him a message.

The afternoon sun got brighter as she approached the door, the tears increased. The youngest Tae Kwon Do champion had injured opponents before sure, but she’d never killed one. There would be no charges, but it still hurt.

When he woke, he was on the ground in the middle of an amusement park. Japanese tourists walked by him, not noticing at the man in bloodied clothes lying on the floor. He sat up and looked at his watch. It was 2 days previous.

He still had time to warn everyone.

Today’s headline caught his eye immediately. Now, he couldn’t understand all the words he read, but he got the gist. This was news. Important kid news. What they knew all along, confirmed. In print. He smiled and raced inside.

Spinach was bad for you.

©2006 Grant Baciocco