The Chronicles of JUSTICE FIST

I have no idea what happened here.

(Once again, the lovely Webster gave me a prompt: "Word Shark". He also told me to do it in the style of a "real life crime show" or something. I don't know what that is, so I fell back on my encyclopaedic knowledge of Judge Judy. And then JUSTICE FIST happened. Seriously, I don't even).

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The Chronicles of JUSTICE FIST

(Scene: Int Courtroom. STRIPES and WEBSTER stand at the defendant & plaintiff's stands. JUSTICE FIST enters.)

VO: Oxford writer WEBSTER is suing Manchester layabout STRIPES for property damage, after a disagreement over a deadline turned heated.

BAILIFF: All rise for the honourable JUSTICE FIST.

(Cue JUSTICE FIST Intro. All dance. JUSTICE FIST shreds like a badass).

BAILIFF: The matter at hand is between this respectable citizen here and this dodgy bastard here, your honour.

JUSTICE FIST: Thank you, bailiff. Mr. WEBSTER, I have here your… incoherent statement. On the night of January 18^th 2014, you came to blows with the defendant here. Tell JUSTICE FIST... everything!

WEBSTER: I was sitting at home when Mr. STRIPES rang the doorbell. He looked… he looked…

JUSTICE FIST: Take your time if you’re upset. JUSTICE FIST knows that not all humans can be as MIGHTY as JUSTICE FIST.

WEBSTER: I’m not… that thing, y… your honour. I’m fi… I’m o… (grunts)

JUSTICE FIST: (raises eyebrow)

WEBSTER: I apologise. I am… experiencing difficulty expressing myself. I was sitting at home, writing words to satisfy Mr. STRIPES. He ordered me to write stories.

JUSTICE FIST: What’s your relationship with the defendant?

STRIPES: Well, I would, but y’know…

JUSTICE FIST: Sir, when JUSTICE FIST wants you to speak, JUSTICE FIST will say so.

(cue STRIKE ONE graphic)

STRIPES: Yes, your honour.

WEBSTER: I met him when we were… augh… (leans on the desk to steady himself)

JUSTICE FIST: BAILIFF, Mr. WEBSTER needs a stiff drink.

(BAILIFF brings Mr. WEBSTER a stiff drink)

WEBSTER: Thank you, that’s- ow!

JUSTICE FIST: Mr. WEBSTER, get on with it!

STRIPES: He always was late, your honour.

WEBSTER: University. We met there. I had friends… he shared. [NAME], [NAME] and [NAME].

JUSTICE FIST: And how did you end up writing for him?

WEBSTER: We were friends. He bought drinks, he wrote things, he ran a… a kind of gaming group I… (grunts) belonged to. He seemed… I can’t say it. We wrote things. I wrote stories; he wrote stories. He went away for a few years. He came back… changed. He said he made words in Cairo loaning En… loaning them to Egyptians.

JUSTICE FIST: JUSTICE FIST approves of foreign aid. One day, all nations should be as awesome as Fistopia!

(cue FISTOPIAN anthem)

WEBSTER: Yes, honour.

BAILIFF: Please address the judge as “your honour”, or alternatively, “Mighty JUSTICE FIST”.

WEBSTER: I apologise. Well, he came back with words. Words, words, words. (WEBSTER makes an expensive gesture). I had no words. I had deadlines. I borrowed words from him.

JUSTICE FIST: You took out a loan? Of words?

WEBSTER: Writers do it. The deadline was January 18^th.

JUSTICE FIST: Was this the first time you’d borrowed words from the defendant?

WEBSTER: No. 2009, he loaned me words. I published a thousand.

JUSTICE FIST: So what was different this time?

WEBSTER: I didn’t know anything was. I guess it was Cairo. He’s dif… he’s… I don’t know this man.

JUSTICE FIST: What were the terms of the agreement?

WEBSTER: No interest. He called it a gift.

STRIPES: I did no such thing, Mighty JUSTICE FIST; he’s lying.

JUSTICE FIST: (cutting STRIPES off) Mr. STRIPES, strike two. (cue STRIKE TWO graphic) Three strikes and you’re out!

AUDIENCE: Ooooooooh!

WEBSTER: Then he came to my house. He said he wanted the words. I told him I had none to give him. He became… he became…

JUSTICE FIST: What did he become?

WEBSTER: He said he would hurt me.

JUSTICE FIST: Did he assault you?

WEBSTER: …no. He wanted to see the words. I showed him the words.

JUSTICE FIST: These are the words he loaned you?

WEBSTER: (struggles) Yes, and no. I mixed up the loan-words and m… mine (grunts, steadies himself again)

JUSTICE FIST: So you showed him all your words, both his and your own?

WEBSTER: Yes.

JUSTICE FIST: And what did he do then?

WEBSTER: He broke the adjectives.

JUSTICE FIST: …what.

WEBSTER: He broke m… the adjectives.

JUSTICE FIST: I don’t understand.

WEBSTER: I can’t use adjectives. Adjectives, no. Adverbs, slightly. I'm in agony… (takes a deep breath) when I use adjective clauses. I can say articles, though. He left me those. He said they weren’t considered adjectives.

JUSTICE FIST: …how did he do this?

WEBSTER: He had a hammer.

JUSTICE FIST: And you didn’t notice the hammer when you were talking?

WEBSTER: It was a sm… it fit in his pocket.

JUSTICE FIST: So an adjective’s a delicate thing, is it?

WEBSTER: Yes. He did not have to hit them… hard.

JUSTICE FIST: …isn’t “hard” an adjective?

WEBSTER: It's an adjective and an adverb, honour.

(cue Time’s Up! music)

JUSTICE FIST: Alright! Your time’s up! JUSTICE FIST will return after these commercials!

(cue commercials)

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(Scene: Int Courtroom. JUSTICE FIST enters.)

VO: Oxford writer WEBSTER accuses Manchester layabout STRIPES of breaking his adjectives, leaving him unable to work.

BAILIFF: All rise for the honourable JUSTICE FIST.

(Cue JUSTICE FIST Intro. All dance. JUSTICE FIST shreds like a badass).

JUSTICE FIST: Thank you, bailiff. Mr. STRIPES, you've heard the accusation. Defend yourself!

STRIPES: It was as he says.

JUSTICE FIST: …what.

STRIPES: And I’ll absolutely pay him any sum he can name.

(cue GUILTY graphics, music)

JUSTICE FIST: Hoo-ah! Justice is served! Mr. WEBSTER: you heard the man! Name your price! Ooh yeah!

WEBSTER: You know that numbers are adjectives, right?

STRIPES: Damn right.

(AUDIENCE gasp! Cue REVERSAL graphics)

VO: A Reversal has been played. This means the fucker might be about to get off on a technicality.

WEBSTER: I hate you.

JUSTICE FIST: Justice has been served! Mighty JUSTICE FIST grows tired of your mewling!

STRIPES: Any number he can name in pounds, Mighty JUSTICE FIST.

WEBSTER: Million.

STRIPES: How many millions?

WEBSTER: One.

STRIPES: One million… what?

WEBSTER: Pounds.

STRIPES: Sentence fragment; consider revising.

WEBSTER: (screaming) I will wound you!

STRIPES: Gasp!

(cue CRIMINALITY graphics, music)

JUSTICE FIST: Mr. WEBSTER, only JUSTICE FIST can issue threats in this court!

(cue BAILIFF to take WEBSTER away)

STRIPES: Justice. I laugh in the face of justice.

JUSTICE FIST: (JUSTICE EYEBROW)

(cut to Ext. Courtroom. WEBSTER enters, handcuffed and shame-faced)

REPORTER: Mr. Webster, that’s a stunning turn of events; I have to say we outside were all very surprised. Can you describe how you’re feeling at this time?

WEBSTER: …[INVECTIVE]

Hate

Three bombs kill six, wound a hundred in Cairo. I... I have no words for how much I hate humanity, right now, for that instinctive tribalism that pushes us to this fatal, murderous defiance of reason and morality, and the exploitable horror of despair that permits the evil to convince the uneducated that everything will be better if they kill themselves "fighting" people who haven't done anything.

Someone invent soma. For the good of us all, someone invent soma. We're animals, and we need something to make us better.

Death Ray

At Webster's instigation:

DEATH RAY

Your lips,

Up-curled in the razor grin of madness,

Move men to poetry,

But it’s lost in the screaming.

Your eyes,

So sharp and murderous,

Glinting in the ruby light –

But lost, behind your mask.

Your hands,

Burnt by your dire works,

Alive around the trigger;

Their touch is lost to me.

Your heart,

So long devoid of life,

Beats again in bloodlust,

But it’s lost, even to you.

Your soul,

What’s left of it, anyway,

Long given over to death –

Soon lost, when the heroes come.

Your death-ray,

So perfect an instrument,

Shattered on the knee of some thoughtless superman –

Its beauty lost on the world.

But your blueprints –

So carefully crafted,

So lovingly ciphered,

So thoroughly backed-up –

A curiosity for Reddit;

A quest for the great black-hearted.

So your legacy,

So widely now reviled,

Lives on dreams of madness:

That will not be lost.