Comicsartist

I awoke from my nap and apologized to the judge. Not very polite to nod off during your murder trial.

Jessica Rabbit walked over to Gnome Bastard and asked him to leave the stand. He agreed, and she took a seat.

"Your Honor, I have a confession to make. It was my husband, Roger, who enticed Mr. Artist to kill the Witness."

"How so?"

"All those years ago, the instalment where Mr. Artist wrote about his family seeing the Easter Bunny, well, that wasn't the Easter Bunny, your Honor. It was Roger. He was on the run from the Judge, no offense, when he was spotted."

"Oh..."

"So, you see, Roger was the one who inspired the fear. Mr. Bastard just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He's innocent!"

I leapt from my chair. "Innocent my ass!" I cried out. "The bastard Bastard robbed me blind and may have killed Carl Weathers!"

"What in the world are you talking about?" The judge asked me.

"Carl was supposed to train me to fight. Against Gnome bastard, none the less. Bastard kidnapped Carl and had him tied up over a volcano!"

"When did this happen?"

"It's been a little while..."

Gnome Bastard spoke up, saying, "If you hadn't forgotten about him he'd still be livin'!"

"Carl really is dead? Noooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

The doors to the courtroom flew open yet again.

Construction workers decided, 'the hell with it' and installed a revolving door.

"Must have been the wind?" I pondered.

"Had to be. Carl really is dead. Dropped him in the volcano about a month ago."

At that moment, my cell phone rang.

"Pardon me, your Honor," I said as I flipped my phone open. "Hello?"

"Hey, man, don't let that bastard fool you. The heat from the volcano made the ropes fray enough for me to get my arms free. I climbed the rope and swung to safety."

"Then where the hell have you been, Carl?! I'm glad you're alive, but give a guy a heart attack!"

"They're taping Celebrity Survivor here. They asked if I'd like to join, I said hell yeah."

"But, but what about all your fans here?"

"Listen, more people will see me on ABC than they will here. Nationally televised tv show, or an insanity driven story on the web...Wasn't a hard choice to make."

"But, Carl-"

"Show me the money!" A voice called out on Carl's end of the call.

"Dear God no..."

"That's right, Cruise is here, too."

"He's still considered a celebrity?"

"Scientology, man. Scientology. They may be whacked, but they do have survivor skills."

"But no psychology."

"Who said the cursed word?!" Tom screamed. "Who said the cursed word?!"

"I gotta go. Tom needs comforting."

And with that, Carl hung up.

I turned my attention to Gnome Bastard. "You. Said. He. Was. Dead."

"I lied. But the look on your face..."

I screamed and ran at Gnome Bastard. Vigoda awoke with a start and fired another round into the ceiling.

"Order! ORDER!" The judge yelled.

We all stopped what we were doing and stared at him.

"First off, someone please, for the love of God, take Abe's shotgun. Second, I'm calling a short recess so the damned roof can be fixed."


(To be continued...)

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Comicsartist

Jesus worked a miracle.

He arrived at the courthouse and immediately set to fixing the ceiling. At first glance one might think the ceiling of the room was made of bullet ridden stucco...and...well...one would be right.

Jesus spread his arms and filled all the holes with blinding speed. In a matter of minutes, the ceiling was saved.

Jesus then descended the ladder and went back to Judge Judy. He was eager to try to work things out one more time.

After much smooth talking and promises, Jesus and Judy ended up engaged. Judy was catholic, and therefore needed to be counseled. After three months of counseling, I was shocked to discover that Judy had slept with her priest.

"What the hell are you on about?" Gnome Bastard asked me, staring at me with a bewildered look in his beady gnome eyes.

"I needed an intro."

"For what?!"


"What the hell? What does Judas Priest have to do with us?"

"Eh, just a little associative. Trial, Judge Judy, Judy's Priest, Judas Priest, breaking the law..."

The judge looked at me.

"Yes?" I asked him.

"You're high right now, aren't you."

How does one lie to a figment of his imagination?

"No, sir."

Hell, that was easier than I thought.

(To e continued...)

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gonzo

Someone help! Gnome bastard has done something with CA? (See avatar...)

Comicsartist

I just want people to know the horrors of the gnome bastard, Gnome Bastard, G.

Evil little swine, if you ask me.

Gnomes should be nice, but Bastard's pretty naughty.

He tried to run me over in his mazeratti.

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gonzo

Damn! The lil bastid must really earn to drive that!

Comicsartist

He has ransacked a lot of houses.

He must be stopped.

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Kanadesaga

I swear the gnomes in my yard move when I'm not looking.

lrrp

At a warehouse floor outside the town of Ascaffenburg, Germany...

Machines spool up in a creaking cacophony as a bio assembly line/cloning production facility emits its deadly goods.

Faceless, nameless proto-plasmic hulks suspended upon meat hooks shuffle towards a massive programming and sheet protien stamping machine. The Gno-cray computer force feeds the pliant material old "Barney Miller" reruns and Warner Brothers cartoons.

Hunched over a mahogany desk is a studious, pilsner soaked, overweight teutonic computer nerd in a soiled white t-shirt that says "Bilderburgers are people too", and a bad hairpiece looking remarkably like a dead ferret.

"Bwahahahaha!!!" sputters the incontinent Bavarian behemoth. "The next batch of enforcers are well on their way! We shall arm them with SIG shotguns and send them forth to deal with the Roger Rabbit security lapse! And I want that Jessica...I love the way she's drawn"...

Another assembly line sputters to life, at ferret head's behest, at the Cadbury plant outside Hershey, PA...

The Creamy Cadbury eggs are injected with the "never ask for directions" gene, painstakingly extracted from wayward American recreational vehicle dads...

Finally... another plant springs into immediate production in Olathe, Kansas. This line produces Garmin gps nav-assistants, and, through several shell corporations, funds the Bilderburger effort outside Aschaffenburg...

The enforcers are fed with the co-ordinates of the trial, and several hundred of the diobolical Abe Vigoda beasties are plodding towards the courtroom this very minute...

Comicsartist

"Did you read that?" I asked Gnome Bastard.

"Yeah, I think we're both screwed, now."

"What about me?" Jessica asked. "I don't want to be a pilsner soaked, overweight teutonic computer nerd's arm candy!"

Slowly we all turned our eyes to Vigoda.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I saw it, too. I still say I'm the original, damn it."

"Well, what are we going to do? We got an army of Vigodas, tainted formerly yummy Cadbury Creme Eggs, even though I should be alright. Never had a sense of direction to begin with...BUT STILL! It's the prinicple of the matter!"

Suddenly the revolving door spun rapidly, fog filled the room, and as it cleared a new voice called out...

"Eh....What's up, Doc?"


(To be continued...)

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Comicsartist

Abe Vigoda looked at me and asked, "What the hell is taking so long? Finish this!!!"

"I'm SORRY!" I shouted. "My dude ran out of 'write fucked up stories' weed!"

The cloud of smoke still hung in the air and the voice of, presumably, Bugs Bunny still echoed through the corridors.

Dare I say it?

To be continued.

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