Saturday, September 15, 2007

Chap. 4 - '12 Angry Men Meet One Pissed Woman'


The History of Gin
or
A Fox's Tail



Is Life Existential?   You Decide.
by   ' Colorado '  Gumi
...I n s p i r e d By T r u e E v e n t s...


Chapter 4

12 Angry Men Meet One Pissed Woman


Ginger took to law like a raccoon to garbage pails. After coming across the second volume of Sir William Blackstone's four-volume "Commentaries on the Laws of England", she taught herself the law... before leaving High School. Initially stymied by an inability to pass a bar without going in -- and staying for several hours -- she finally passed the bar exam by selecting each answer with her eyes closed. It also helped that she bought several rounds for the house and was drunk herself. She considered moving to Springfield, Illinois and practicing law with Stephen T. Logan, just like Abraham Lincoln, but ever the iconoclast, she decided instead to attend the elite Cornell Law School in a brazen experiment to evaluate that institution's ability to teach law. She found they did an adequate job, although the cafeteria salad bar could have been better.

Ginger's first case, which was tried during the week of winter vacation in her junior year at Ayn Rand High School, caused a local sensation. Her client was a lady who had bitch-slapped and emasculated a shoe clerk that, at the time, had the balls to insist she try a size 9 Rene Caovilla sandal when she had said she wore a 7-1/2. Needless to say he no longer had those balls and Gin, incensed by such gauche, made it her "raison d'etre" to prove the act of removing them was completely justified.

Knowing of Gerry Spence and his trademark fringed leather coat, Gin decided to establish a signature outfit from the start. Briefly considering Oshkosh overalls, she finally settled on Day-Glo pink boob-tube, Hawaiian-print string bikini bottom and Cornell logo flip-flops. Far from being found in contempt when appearing in court thus attired, the judge, who was a closeted cross-dresser, bought the same outfit after the trial and secretly modeled it in his chambers for the bailiff and court reporter.

Gin's court manner was a mixture of the blind aggression and mindless bloodlust of her early Celtic forebears tempered with the stealth, surprise and mindless bloodlust of the Viking raiders who had introduced themselves, intimately, to her Irish kinswomen. ...She felt it better never, ever, to tap the passions of the Balkan side of her family.

Just to be perverse, she arranged for an all-male jury; twelve ostensibly honest citizens who had no idea what lay before them. As the trial unfolded, suffice it to say that Ginny not only had them eating out of her hand, they were trained to the leash, would do clever tricks at voice command, and were reliably housebroken. And although in her summation she did not specifically threaten anyone present with the massive claymore used by her Celtic ancestors to separate the heads from Englishmen, she did mention four times that it was outside in her car.

In the end these twelve men, who started the trial genuinely happy with the world, quickly transcended anger and settled on blind fury for the injured clerk. After the first ballot the jury reported that there was one holdout juror, whom they had hog-tied and gagged. After the second ballot they passed a note to the judge asking that the shoe clerk be sent to the jury room so they could kill him. At this point the judge felt obliged to give the jury additional instructions to the effect that the mob forming outside in the streets would deal with the clerk if he left the building alive, and after the third ballot, the defendant was acquitted, given treble damages and awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.



To Be Continued

Saturday, September 1, 2007

Chap. 3 - 'My Little Ponies n' Gin'


The History of Gin
or
A Fox's Tail



Is Life Existential?   You Decide.
by   ' Colorado '  Gumi
...I n s p i r e d By T r u e E v e n t s...


Chapter 3

My Little Ponies n' Gin


As wrenching as the parturition was for Ginger, she thrived after the first shock and quickly began copious emission of happy burbles, coos, grins, twitches and yawns, as well as discharge of the obligatory liquids, solids and gases. Driving home from the hospital everyone noted that lil' Ginny's manifestations of delight seemed to peak as they passed trendy boutiques, exclusive jewelry stores, and BMW dealerships. Failing to grasp this omen of the future, these reactions were passed off as the coincidental gurglings of gas in her tiny tum-tum.

Time passed and Ginger grew from gassy seedling to potty-trained young tree. Not sickly and stressed like a tree grows in Brooklyn. Nor cramped and stunted like a tree in a pot in The Plaza's lobby. But vigorous and grand, like the annual Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center; that is before they knock it over, ship it far from home and nail it to a stand for people to loaf around and gawk at.

And throughout this period, Ginny's life revolved around the icons of the age; Strawberry Shortcake, Teddy Ruxpin, Lady Lovelilocks, The Cat in the Hat, She-Ra, Pound Puppies, Ronald Reagan, Margaret Thatcher, My Little Ponies... She adored the Care Bears, those care-full citizens of Care-a-lot. Enraptured by their antics, Ginny would clap with delight whenever they let the Care flow from the cute emblems on their noble tummies. She watched the Care Bears' TV Shows, she went to the Care Bears' Movies, she sang the Care Bears' Songs, she memorized the Care Bears' Creed, she craved the Care Bears' Merchandise, she ate the Care Bears' Cereal. Had the Care Bears had one, she would have drunk the Care Bears' Scotch. She really cared for the Care Bears.

One shouldn't think young Ginger's life was all play however, she was eager to contribute. Early each morning she would awake in the drafty loft of her family's cabin, scamper down the rough-hewn ladder to the ground floor and fan the banked embers of the prior night's fire back to life. Occasionally, especially on cold morns, if she found the fire had died overnight she knew to slip her frock over her gown, slide her bare feet into the buckskin moccasins her father made and hurry the mile to Jones' farm, the nearest neighbor, to get a live coal from their hearth. In spite of the effort, Ginny liked these trips because the Jones kept bees and always would offer her a steamy biscuit dripping with honey.

After a breakfast of liver, with some fava beans, Ginny would wash up, tug a comb one lick through her hair and start her two mile walk to school. The journey wasn't a burden because her pet opossum, Percy, usually kept her company. They would walk along happy as larks and both grinning, for all the world, like 'possums. In winter however, with knee-deep snow and roof-high drifts, the daily trips resembled Himalayan ascents, especially when she had to carry little Percy, who tended to ice up when his fur got wet in the cold. At school, young Miss Tendermercie, a warm-hearted school marm, made sure Ginny learned her three R's and even loaned her real store-bought books to take home and read. Ginny often would read long past dark, lying on the dirt floor beside the fire for light to see by.

As the years passed, Ginger grew into a strapping young gal who didn't mind working hard to bring in a little extra money, usually by splitting fence rails. Her ability to split a long rail, straight and true, with a few blows of the axe was a wonder of the county, where she was known as "Rail Splitter." She also was know to be a good wrestler.

Ginger soon was considering her destiny as an adult. Recalling her Irish father's barbarous youth, many suspected her natural aptitude might be running -- bare-breasted and painted blue, hair flowing wild and bloodstained sword carving gory swaths -- at the head of a charging horde of Celts. But those people weren't being quite fair. Her father hoped that she would become a Broker/Trader, mainly because it was easy for him to spell.

For her part, Ginger secretly harbored a childhood dream of driving a Monster Truck competitively at county fairs and in civic auditoriums across the country, and during the off-season, pole dancing in a Vegas titty bar for tips. However, it was probably memories of the land-title litigations her family endured repeatedly in Kentucky and Indiana that supplanted a career as eye-candy with one in the legal profession.



To Be Continued