Post Number Seventeen

“FREE– But At What Cost?”

My show trial came around quickly. The verdict for the “crime” of Inciting to Jaywalk (thirteen counts) was (allegedly) “guilty”– and the sentence was either One Hundred Years of Capital Punishment (or something. I dunno. Wasn’t listening) or (given my low pay level) a seventy five dollar fine. That was the grim choice I was given. My response (ignoring the advice of Albie Werdspert, my lawyer) was to ask the judge-lady if we could have a short recess while I tossed a coin. She gave the whiskers on her chin a thoughtful rub, then tossed a coin herself to decide. Result? She allowed it. Thirty seconds later my fate got sealed: I would pay the (buh-luddy) fine!

Now, the wily Reader will surely be wondering “What about the much more serious Mass Kidnapping charge, Duncan Dooligan? How big was the fine for that one?”

Good question(s). The Mass Kidnapping charge was dropped. Or more correctly, downgraded a little to a single charge of “Saving the Youth of Today FROM EVIL” (if you please) which (while I’m no legal expert) I would guess is almost entirely within the bounds of the law nowadays. Oh, sure, according to some “legal” interpretations of the law I may have “kidnapped” those kids I stole from the daycare centre when I took them on an epic (for them, anyway) trek along Mountain Street in the direction of a closed polling booth.  And yes, the main reason those charges were called “kidnapping charges” was because I was (allegedly) “charged” with (alleged) “kidnapping” at roughly the same time as I was (allegedly) being arrested (also for “kidnapping”).

But these ipso facto hearsay coincidences don’t add up to a pile’a speed humps when we measure them against my Basic Inner Goodness. Y’see, there is one detail that I left out of my last blog posting (or the one before that. Or whenever) and it’s this: what may have looked at first glance like a (quote) “kidnapping excursion” was– in reality– a rescue mission. Furthermore, it was a rescue mission so Top Secret even I didn’t know it was happening!

In hindsight, of course, it’s obvious. Remember how I said I worked the morning shift at the Kiddy Koncentration Kamp? No? Must’a said it sub-textually, then. Anyway, the point is this: How strange it seemed (in hindsight) that the kids were given their nap-times in the morning– after most of them had prob’ly just woken up at home! And how is it possible to send such fidgeting tykes back to Snoozy-Woozy Land when the novelty of that land had worn off at wakey-wakey time?? There’s only one way it could be done: with DRUGS. That was my hunch– and I was right.

See, the carers (as they somewhat self-promotingly called ’emselves) were actually a team of Animals de la Partay (translation: “Party Animals”) who spent their waking nights on- and around the town. Sounds legal so far– BUT. Then they would regularly turn up for work the next morning all haggard-looking and sleep-hungry, with plans on catching a few zeds on the job– and the only way they could manage that feat was by zedding the noisy kids as well: with DRUGS (like I zed).

This meant that when I got the kids moving out the gate and onto the busy road, I also got their kiddy-sized circulations moving as well (dodgin’ trucks ‘n’ shit) thereby expelling the drugs from their sweaty little glands. And so, in my (unconscious) urgency to free them from their cage, I actually freed them from a wasted morning (“wasted” thanks to their ingestion of {quote} “sleeping lollies”) instead. Thus my heroism did  not go unheralded by newspapers like the Local Herald. Here’s a taste of how great those Hounds of the News think (or perhaps know?) I am. Headline:




CARTEL (various ages, 25+)”

And because my heroism (and the news thereof) broke even louder than the ill-winds of Madame Justice, the court was caught with its gown down and had no choice other than setting me free, like I did the kids. Ironic? Perhaps.

Of course, I had a bit of help from Albie Werdspert, my lawyer, who made himself useful (at last) by uncovering a legal technicality. Just a bit of quibbling over the word “kidnap” is all, and whether or not it actually is “A” word rather than two words. In other words, it was a question re: the meaning of that one (or more) word(s). This is where Albie Werdspert’s word-spurtin’ genius came into full juicy ripeness. He duh-MARN-ded (loudly) to know exactly how (exactly) was it possible that I could have possibly “kid-NAPPED” those kids when in actual fact I saved ’em from napping? For in the very act of taking those nap-less nappy-wearers away from where they were allegedly supposed (or “supposedly alleged”. I forget which) to be, I was doing the exact opposite of “napping” them– by KEEPING THEM AWAKE!

Pure fuggin’ genius, Yer Honour.

The only glitch (apart from the seventy five buck fine) is the fact I now have to pay one more fee (to Albie)– and his “pure fuggin’ genius” didn’t come cheap. Which is why I hung around outside the Courthouse until the daycare centre drugs cartel came into court, packing lawyers of their own. When I saw the boss lady (Doris. Or something) coming along in thumb-cuffs, I barged my way through the Newspaper Reporter (that guy from the Local Herald) and cried out:

“DAISY!! Or Doris! Or something… Listen, I got biiiiiiig legal fees, and on an unrelated subject, I’m good for a couple hours work on Sunday. Preferably late morning. VERY late morning. Double-time pay, right? Daisy..? Um… Gretchen?”

I’m still waiting for some sort of (non-swear-word) reply.