Case Dismissed

Case Dismissed

         Judge Julie’s night court was in session, with the usual blend of nutcases and
malcontents pleading their cases.

         The defendant sniffed and wiped away an errant tear with a wadded tissue. "I’m sorry, your Honor. I didn’t mean to embarrass or cause Mr. Drakkor any ridicule. I was only trying to help."

         Judge Julie peered down at the chubby defendant standing twenty feet away. “Mrs. Wimberly, is it true that you made up posters, with the plaintiff’s photograph and his home address, then posted them all over your neighborhood?"

         The defendant nodded, lips quivering.

         “And is it true that, in these posters, you made the claim that Mr. Drakkor is a
vampire, at the behest of this, what is it...VRA, or Vampire Rights Activist group? Do you all need psychiatric help? Do you really think vampires exist?”

         ”Oh, we know they do, Judge Julie! And we feel they have the same rights as any other minority group. We simply wanted to inform parents that Mr. Drakkor is a member of the undead community and that it would be insensitive for them to allow their children to dress up for Halloween in black capes, slicked-back hair and fake fangs. We wouldn’t let our kids go dressed in blackface, with nappy-hair wigs and thick, red wax lips, or wearing glasses and buck teeth in some stereotypical caricature of an African American or a person of Asian descent. In these days of political correctness, the vampire should have the same respect.”

         Judge Julie closed her eyes and shook her head before speaking. “Look, you almost got Mr. Drakkor killed. Some nitwits actually believed this tripe you were spouting and went to his home with wooden stakes and crucifixes. It’s a miracle he wasn’t harmed."

         Mrs. Wimberly opened her mouth, but the judge silenced her with a raised palm. Turning to the tall, slender, thirty-something plaintiff she smiled. “Mr. Drakkor, you are here suing the defendant for defamation of character and asking the full amount this court can award: five- thousand dollars?”

         “Yes, ma’am.”

         Pasting on her kindly grandmother face, Judge Julie said, ”Were you actually harmed by the actions of the defendant? How many people can really believe in this vampire drivel?”

         The plaintiff’s dark eyes became even darker. “Thanks to popular movies and television programs, many people believe. And they think it is their duty to slay said vampire.”

         “You know, Mr. Drakkor, I feel that your case is frivolous and a waste of the court’s valuable time, as well as mine. You had other recourse to settle this matter. When these screwballs showed up at your door, why didn’t you simply call the police?”

         "Because, your Honor, I didn’t want to draw even more attention to myself than the defendant and the VRA had already done. Besides, a couple of the people who harassed me provided a nice snack. Not as invigorating as a youthful trick-or-treater or two would have been, but I could get used to the curb service.”

         The judge blinked. “What the hell are you talking about?”

         ”I’m saying that the notoriety, though it singled me out to the fervent vampire hunters, it also brought dinner to my door.”

         Judge Julie looked to her left, winked at her faithful bailiff, Bart, then turned back to the plaintiff. “Are you saying, Mr. Drakkor, that you are a vampire? That you sleep in a coffin, avoid daylight and all that other superstitious crap?”

         ”Indeed. Though it is neither superstition nor crap, “ Drakkor answered.

         The judge pushed the hair up off her forehead with one hand and fairly screamed, “Do you see the word “stupid” written up here, Mr. Drakkor?”

         Moving with astonishing speed, Drakkor covered the distance to the raised bench where the judge sat and, with a single cat-like leap, landed on hands and knees in front of her. One hand shot out. The blackened, claw-like fingernail flashed, cutting the word “stupid” into the judge’s wrinkled forehead in a bloody swath. “As a matter of fact, I do, Judge,” he said. He gnashed his fangs into her neck and began to feast.

         The bailiff tried to intervene, but Drakkor brushed him away as though he were slapping at a worrisome mosquito. The bailiff flew eight feet and smashed against the wall. His body shattered with a sound like that of a automobile tire rolling over an empty glass bottle, accompanied by a nauseatingly dull, wet pulush noise before he crumpled in a dead, mangled heap.

         The spectators ran, jumped, pushed and bullied their way toward the exit,
fighting, falling, screaming in horror.

         Except for Mrs. Wimberly. She stood frozen as Drakkor turned from his grisly task, dark blood dripping from his fangs, and said, “Case dismissed, Mrs. Wimberly. I’ve decided to settle out of court. I’ll be seeing you. Soon."

         The defendant’s brain finally connected with her feet and she ran screaming from the courtroom.

         Drakkor returned to his warm, oozing meal.

The End

DM