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Crap Stories that I'll Someday Publish
Saturday, January 17, 2004
 
"This is it, courtroom number two," said the guard, as he pushed Marcus through the large wooden doors.
"I now bring Marcus Kemor to the stand," Mr. Gistuary said as Marcus entered the room.
Marcus looked around. The jury, 5 black women, 2 white women, 4 white men, 2 black men, and one Hispanic man, all looked back at him attentively. The judge, a large white woman with thick eyebrows, looked bored with the trial, and motioned to one of the guards to swear Marcus in. Bianca sat at a small table, next to her second attorney, Ms. Rendge, a stout woman of about 30. Mr. Gistuary stood at the
pedotium, from which he was to interview Marcus.
"Place your left hand on the Bible, and raise your right hand," said the tired looking guard who Marcus had not seen before.
"To you swear to say the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" said the guard.
"I do," Marcus said.
"You may sit," the judge said, and the interview began.
"Mr. Kemor, Bianca Kemor is your sister, correct?" asked Mr. Gistuary.
"Yeah, she is," Marcus said as he glanced at Bianca. She stared back at him with sorrowful brown eyes, her greasy black hair falling down around her face. The outfit their mother had bought for her to wear to court was too big, and Marcus noticed that she had lost a lot of weight.
"Your mother said that she is 3 years younger. Is that true?"
"Yeah, and we have another brother, who's 5 years older than me. But we don' know where he is, 'cause he ran away when he was 14 and I was 9. I ain't seen him since, nobody has."
"And your father?...."
"He left my mamma when Bianca was just a baby."
"I see," said Mr. Gistuary.
"Gist, get on with it," snapped the judge.
"Alright, alright," said the attorney. "Have you ever seen a picture of this boy, ever in your life?" asked Mr. Gistuary as he held up a picture of Howard "Shrimp" Placker.
"Yeah, he used to live next door to me."
TO BE CONTINUED

Monday, January 12, 2004
 
Marcus looked out the window from his bench inside the tiny waiting room in the courthouse, on the fifth floor. The window only looked out onto an abandoned construction site, but it was enough. He needed to get away, not only from beige wall-papered room that he was told to wait in, but also from his thoughts.
The door opened, and in walked his tall, plump mother of 49. Marcus glanced at her only for a second, then turned back to look out the window. He was ashamed to look at his befuddled mother, wearing shoes that slid off her feet as she walked, and eye makeup running down her face from crying. Her hair was frizzing at its ends as it always was, and her usual smell of sickly-scented perfume was over-powering the tiny room.
"Marcus...." she said, as she stepped towards him. "Marcus, you're next."
"I'm not goin' into that bull-shit courtroom."
"Marcus, you have to...."
"What good would it do, Mama?"
"It would help your sister...."
"Mama, no matter what, Bianca's goin' to jail. Either that, or one of those fuckin' mental institutes where they lock you up and do a bunch of tests on ya."
"Marcus, still, try to help your sister. Just do what you can."
"IT WOULDN'T MATTER!" shouted Marcus, "IT'S EITHER THE JAILHOUSE, OR THE NUTHOUSE! AND FRANKLY, I DON'T GIVE A FUCK WHERE SHE GOES! SHE'S MESSED UP OUR FAMILY, OUR LIFE, EVEN OUR FRIENDS' LIVES! I SAW HER KILL HIM, MAMA, I SAW HER! AND I CAN'T EVER FORGIVE HER FOR WHAT SHE DID, EVER!"
"Ms. Kemor, is there a problem?" asked the security guard who had just come to escourt Marcus.
"No, there isn't one," said Marcus's mother, glancing nervously at Marcus.
"Well, then, let's go," said the guard, motioning to Marcus to follow him.
The guard led Marcus from the tiny waiting room down the hall to a large elevator with a marble floor and wooden walls.
"We use this elevator to bring evidence up to the courtrooms," explained the guard. But Marcus wasn't listening. He was trying to remember what he and Bianca's lawyer, Mr. Gistuary, had planned for him to say.
TO BE CONTINUED.....

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