Someone had caught up to Jack.

It didn't really matter who it was. What mattered was that they had shot him. The pain in his chest told him that he was going to die. Fuck. Maybe that was what he deserved. He had ...

"Welcome to purgatory."
Jack clutched at his chest but found that it didn't hurt anymore.
He seemed to be standing in an infinite grey emptiness.
Empty except for the woman who had spoken to him.

"Am I dead?" he asked.
"Yes" she answered. "This is purgatory. You are here to be judged for the crime of murder"

Jack finally recognized her. He tried to look down, but he seemed unable to. "You" he said with a small voice. "I killed you".

"I am not your victim." the woman replied calmly. "It is your conscience that makes me look that way to you. I am your judge."

Tears tried to fill Jack's eyes. But he seemed unable to cry here. There was no escape. His gaze was held by the woman. By the judge. She continued speaking:

"You raped and killed a mother of three. She was kind to almost everyone she met. She was a good friend. She spoke mostly truth. She did not deserve to be treated the way you treated her."

"I am sorry, so sorry!" Jack managed to say.

"Yes." the judge said. "You are. But for who? You will be given a choice:
Would you rather that you never had killed anyone, or
would you rather that you killed someone who deserved it?"
She added:
"You will answer truly"

The last part seemed to bind his mind and his throat.
He sort of sensed, that he was supposed to give the first answer, but he couldn't keep from thinking about how he grew up being tormented by his father, by his older brother, by anyone older than him really. How he had never been given a chance. Society wrote him off at an early age. So many people had stepped on him.

He heard himself say: "I would rather I had killed someone who deserved it"

The judge said: "So be it."

A flash of white.
Then...

Jack was alive again. Alive? Yes of course he was. What had just happened? What was he doing? He was in an alley. He had a knife in his hand.

"Please let me go."

A beautiful woman was looking at him as if she was afraid of him. She was pressed against the wall.
Jack knew he wanted her.
He also knew he was a swine.
The woman screamed as he plunged the knife into his own heart.

"Welcome to purgatory"
In front of Jack stood a man, who looked exactly like himself.

"You are found guilty of murder."

The words didn't surprise me. I had been caught red handed, to say the least. There existed more witnesses to what I had done than people I knew on a first name basis.

I had always been terrible at managing anger. It's why she left me after years of putting up with it. One night she took them and left, leaving a note saying someone would contact me for proceedings.

I loathed her and I loathed my life since then. It had been almost ten years now and I haven't found a woman whom I can start a new life with. I grasp at the past through alcoholism and feel remorse for how I had been. I don't think I've changed, but the feeling of sadness is real.

My son hasn't talked to me in seven years. My daughter rarely does since visitation rights ended with her becoming an adult. She did tell me that he was quick to call the new guy "dad." My blood boiled at the thought. He gave my ex-wife away at the wedding with the biggest smile he had smiled till then. I didn't know this firsthand, but my daughter didn't spare details. On one end she was the only one who still kept in touch with me, but on the other it seemed like her words twisted the knife.

She was seeing someone, a meek guy - the total opposite of myself. He had long hair and the ghost of a mustache. His lanky physique and preference for old clothes confused me. What are kids into these days? He was involved in and called himself an activist. She told me she loved his passion while simultaneously being laid back.

She knew I didn't like him and that made her want him more, or that's what she led me to believe.

A few months ago he caught her with someone else. The little asshole had never been exposed to such shitty human behavior. He lost it. He dragged her to his car and they took a long drive. Her phone was thrown out the window and he brandished his knife at her. Then he took her somewhere in the woods and raped her at knife-point. Then he drove off after saying he hoped a bear got her.

She had walked semi-naked down the dirt road until some rednecks picked her up. She was so scared. They took her to a place with a phone and she called me. I went to get her.

I was furious. How dare someone do this to MY daughter? She stayed with me and I could hear her cry in the other room in the early hours of morning. She didn't open up to me but I would catch her looking at me sometimes, her eyes darting back into a thousand mile stare once she realized that I had.

"I warned you about this creep," I told her after a few weeks. She didn't say anything. My argument didn't really hold up, I only judged him as such based on his physical appearance - but I could not resist reminding her that I was right.

One day I came home and she had gotten into my liquor cabinet. She was happy to see me. She called me Daddy and said she had cheated on him many times with this guy from another town that she met online. He reminded her of me. He was assertive and brash and made her feel certain feelings she didn't get from the ex. She broke down saying that he didn't want her anymore when she told him what had happened to her, and that was something I would have done too.

My little girl, I thought. She loved me all along but never told me. I left when she fell asleep after carrying her to bed. I had my gun with me. Long story short, I went to an event at her campus that I was sure her rapist ex would be at. He was with another girl and they were smiling at each other. I went up to him.

"Oh...hey," he said when he saw me. His expression changed completely. I smiled at him. I told him that I hadn't heard from my daughter for a few weeks, we had an argument and she seems to have cut ties. I asked if he'd seen her.

No, he said, he had not. He started spinning. She was fiercely independent and might have broken up with him, he said. He felt it was best to let her experience life and was now focusing on school and his friends. Maybe I could try asking her mom?

Those were his last words.

After dropping my gun and kicking it away, I knelt down with my hands up. There was no point in running, everyone had seen it. I was glad they had. Everyone should see what happens to scum like this kid.

She visited me in jail quite a few times. On the outside, she told me I was a violent jerk but on the inside I could see she felt avenged. I was her hero and for the first time I felt that it was deserved.

The jury unanimously found me guilty. The judge had yet to pass a sentence. I expected death and I was ready for it. I didn't have much to live for anyway and I sure went out reminding my little girl that she was the most important thing to me.

Instead, I was taken to the judge's office. I was introduced to a psychiatrist and the lawyers were present. I was told that I had committed a crime of passion.

Obviously, I thought.

As per the new order of the state, there must be blood to pay for blood. I shrugged, I knew that. The days of life imprisonment disappeared during my childhood, as did charity. The only way that made sense in a world filled to the brim was that blood must be paid with blood. I didn't fully understand it but I was ready to face it.

I was told it didn't necessarily have to be my own blood. My daughter, they said, she had been adulterous not just with the one guy but several. They told me details they had gathered through interviews with her friends and her. To call her promiscuous would be an understatement.

"What are you trying to say?" I asked with barely kept anger in my voice. My head was swimming. I thought she only cheated with that one guy because he reminded her of me. I felt betrayed. What had I done?

They told me that based on my interrogation, they see that I had been misled. I nodded, I had been indeed misled. Little bitch. They told me that I should commend myself for doing what I did under my limited knowledge of the situation. Every word made sense. I gritted my teeth when I thought about how I'd been fucked over.

Someone leaned over and told me that I could have a new life in a week, far away. I could have a new name and will never return or want to return. I felt tears run down my face because I knew what they were going to say.

She would disappear a few days after my supposed execution. Those who know her will shrug and say she probably took her own life after what happened to me. She would definitely do that, I thought, what would she be without me?

"Would you rather die or have her die in your stead?"

My final thought before answering is that she was a little liar, just like her mother.

When I re-entered the courtroom, everyone looked at me in disgust. I was confused and looked over at my daughter who had a look of pure hatred. Her mascara was running with tears of pure anger. She yelled out that she hoped I burned in hell and stormed off.

I then noticed the large screen behind the judge's seat. The video shown was of his office. I took a long look at it before it was turned off.

"It was important to her mother that her daughter know who her father really was before he is put to death," said the judge. I felt the eyes of everyone in the court room on me. "There will be no one mourning your death and you will not be missed."

He then told the guards to take me away.

I've never tried one of these, but I figured I'd give it a shot.

A calm breeze blew through the man's hair as he stood atop the hill of his favorite hiking trail. His frail legs had barely managed to carry him to the top, but it was a pain he was happy to feel again. He basked in this beautiful feeling of exhaustion he had been long awaiting. Suddenly, a familiar voice called his name, and he turned to see his wife approaching. "I missed you," she said as she wrapped her arms around him and

BANG

Judge Carter was jolted from his daydream by the sound of the courtroom doors being thrust open. He had lost count of how many sentences he had done today already, but the fact that he would be done soon was the only thing retaining his sanity. He was sore. He reached down and rubbed his legs to increase the blood flow to them. They were numb, but it was nothing out of the norm.

A slender middle-aged man approached the bench, his head sunken sully as if weighed down by some invisible force. "State your name," Judge Carter barked. The man raised his guilty eyes just enough to meet those of the tired judge. He stated his name, but Judge Carter only listened enough to hear the last name.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Sanders. Embezzlement of government funds. I remember your case." Judge Carter scanned through his papers for the case number, but quickly gave up his search. "You'll just have to remind me of the details. It's hard to remember so many cases, and frankly, I'm too tired to search through a stack of paperwork. What was your job title?"

"Senator," the man grumbled shamefully.

"Ah, yes. I saw you about a week ago." Judge Carter located the document in a matter of seconds. "Okay Mr. Sanders, the jury determined last week that you are guilty of embezzlement and you have returned to hear your sentencing options. Now, although you are probably already aware, being a senator and all, we have a special sentencing method in this court. I will present to you two different correctional punishments, and you--"

"Save your breath. I know how it works," the senator interrupted.

"Are you positive? There are many minor stipulations in the bill that--"

"Seeing as I helped write the bill, that won't be necessary. Now please, read me my options."

Judge Carter's eyebrows raised, and he felt his blood rush to his head. Carter tried to hold back his next words, but the urge overtook him, and he grunted back at the guilty senator. "You know, Mr. Sanders, I'm normally not one to share my opinion, but I've done a lot of these cases and I've seen your bill cause a lot of unnecessary trouble. The fact that you're sitting here in front of me today, well, it's a bittersweet feeling. I would never wish anyone into this bizarre process. It's awful, and the punishments are often far too harsh for the crimes committed. But at the same time, I'm glad you finally get to see how this works."

Judge Carter offered him his options. "Punishment option 1: Your greed led you to embezzle money, so this option requires you to give this greed up. For two years, you will forfeit all of your possessions: your money, house, cars, clothes, everything. You may visit housing structures, but you will be required to sleep only outside on the sidewalk or in the grass. You will also be restricted from using all forms of motor transportation. Additionally, you will be restricted to a minimum wage income for the remainder of your life, regardless of the job you work.

Punishment option 2: You will work as a court judge without pay. You will remain in the courtroom 23 hours a day, allowing 1 hour in an outside courtyard. You will be offered two meals a day, and one bathroom break a day. This will continue until you have completed 1,000 cases, or until someone else chooses to replace you for their punishment. All of your assets will be returned to you when your punishment ends."

"I choose punishment 2," the man responded, without hesitation.

An enormous smile came across Judge Carter's face. "Good luck to you, Mr. Sanders."

As a plaintiff handcuffed the senator, a suited man in the back of the courtroom stood up. Carrying a black briefcase, he approached Judge Carter at his stand. He smiled at the judge as he removed a long golden key from the briefcase.

"Sore?" the suited man asked Carter. "Very. Get these things off of me."

The man reached down and unlocked the shackles around Carter's feet.

"Although I'm sure you couldn't care less, your official count was 994 cases. Congratulations, Mr. Carter. Your punishment is over."

I thrummed my fingers on top of my legs as I thought. It was a habit I got into when I was younger, though then I used to do it on the table instead. However I changed that habit when I became employed as it tended to irritate the others in the room and make the accused overtly nervous. One even snapped and tried to make a break for it, that may or may not have been my fault, but better to be safe than sorry with these things, so my busy fingers busy themselves in quieter company nowadays.

I was thinking of an appropriate punishment for the man in front of me, a convicted rapist, one with overwhelming evidence stacked against him. However the issue lied in the attention this particular case had garnered. The victim was extended family of the president. As such I was given more freedom than is typical for dishing out his options. Typically it would be "would you rather spend twenty less years free Or lose everything you own?". Not greatly selected options in my opinion. The ones who instituted them didn't consider the possibility of a very poor person committing such a crime and essentially losing nothing. Thankfully that option will be overturned next month.

Apologies for my rambling, I just like things to be clear so that there's no misconception about why I made the decision I did. You see, when a judge is given the power to choose the question, then there comes with it a certain expectation. One cannot reward criminal behavior and so when I was told of my position by the higher ups, it was clear they desired an example be made of this man.

Anyway, the scene played out as such:

"Would you rather, be half you height and double your weight, or double your height and half your weight?"

The accused was quite perplexed for a couple of seconds, I suppose my wording wasn't what one would call intuitive. However his mouth quickly began to gape open soon afterwards, his forehead crinkling in rapid thought while his eyes widened in shock. It looked quite uncomfortable. It took him a while before he could say anything, or I suppose, thought of what to say. But when he did, he said:

"How?...How would you do these things?" "Well, For your first option, we would simply take your current weight, remove your legs and suture shut the wounds. After waiting for that to heal, we would then find your weight after the removal and then pump fattening produce into your body until you became double your previous weight."

I will note, I had to call for order several times whilst I was saying all of this of course, but I'll be excluding that if you don't mind. Welp, for the second option I told him:

"And if you choose option number two, we'll simply suck the fat right out of you with liposuction, and assuming you survive that we will then give you a bit of a stretch."

"This is unconstitutional! There are la..."

"THOSE LAWS CAN BE AMENDED!"

...I admit to being a little prone to theatrics, I prefer to think of that as the reason they chose me for this case.

"I have been bestowed, by the government of the united nations, power of determination over which punishments are layed before you. And while you are certainly not a typical citizen due to your most reprehensible actions, you are in fact still a citizen of the united nations and as such must follow the laws of its government. Now choose."

That was one of the harder decisions I've given in my life. I essentially relegated the man to either a terrible death or horrible dismemberment, then probably death. I let him have his time making his choice. Normally one has to make their decision within an hour of the question being announced in cases of this nature, but I gave him two. I enjoyed watching him stew almost as much as I hated him. I say hated in the past tense, as one could hardly call him a man anymore, more like a bulbous pile of sludge at this stage. So I suppose that answers your question then, that's what happened, yes the decision I made was influenced somewhat by my emotions at the time, but I do not regret my decision at all. Such things are unavoidable, when families involved.

The defendant stood in stunned silence, her mind racing.

Was this really happening? Did she even really know what she did that night? The jury seemed bloody well convinced, yet she never believed she could take a life. Now she was faced with the bizarre conundrum of taking another. Or a first, perhaps. Did that make it worse... or better?

"We're waiting," intoned the magistrate dispassionately. Of course they were. But this decision could hardly be made lightly.

"Well, I..." stammered the accused. What madness was this, to decide the fate of so many? She couldn't help but wonder what her sentence would have been under the old statutes, 'barbaric' as they were.

"I suppose I'll shag David Tennant, kill David Beckham, and marry David Hyde Pierce."

The gavel banged and the courtroom was hushed. The verdict had been read and all that was left was for the judge to issue her sentence. She eyed the guilty man, her head shaking ever so slightly in disgust at what he had done. Any posturing of innocence he had once assumed had been vanquished by the damning decree from the jury.

"In all my years as a judge, I don't know if I've ever met a man as despicable as you," she bellowed. "Your capability for violence is only equaled by your incapability for remorse. If you weren't living in such a just society, you'd be executed in the most brutal way imaginable for the atrocities you've committed. You should consider yourself the luckiest man on the planet that you were born in a country which believes that barbarism should not be punished with barbarism."

The room remained silent. Everyone waited with bated breath. This was it. This was the moment.

"I am now ready to delcare my sentence," she said, sighing at the tough justice she was being forced to deal out. "I ask the guilty party this: would you rather eat at Arby's three times a day for the rest of your life, or would you rather be forced to wear an oversized sombrero at all times which is filled to the brim with sour cream?"

The courtroom exploded into hysterics. The guilty man's mother fainted.

The Judge looked down on Stanley with disgust. After all of mankind had finally bound together to begin fixing the environmental ruin they had cause on the Earth it sickend him to have scum come through his court who continue to carelessly pollute their surroundings for their own selfish gains.

"Stanley," the Judges voice boomed " in consideration of the evidence submitted to this court you have been found guilty of the crimes with which you have been charged and I now will present you with your sentencing."

Stanley began trembling in nervous anticipation of the decision about to be set before him. Never before had he knowingly been faced with a choice that would carry such an impact on his life to follow.

This was the Judge's favorite part, making these criminals sit and sweat for a few extra moments before revealing futile choices.

"Stanley, since you were found guilty of crimes against nature this court feels it is only fair for nature to pay you back for said crimes. But don't worry things have been modified so you might have a chance. You must now choose Stanley, will you fight one hundred duck sized horses or one horse sized duck!"

"That's not a real thing!" Stanley quickly shouted, and from behind came came a confused commotion from those in attendance.

The Judged smashed down his gavel in anger at this outburst.

"Order!" He yelled. "I will not tolerate this behavior in my court room!"

He then leveled his eyes on Stanley, "I assure that this is real, very real. Now make your choice."

Stanley stood shocked, he looked to lawyer for help but only received a stone faced glance in return. After a moment however he began to calm and then slowly a smile started to form. This made the Judge both nervous and more angry.

"What are you smiling about?" He sneered.

"Well your Honor," Stanley started " to be honest before all this mess I used to be an ardent redditor"

The Judges confusion began to grow and become more evident.

"I can see you don't know what that means," he continued "but although I never realized it, I've been preparing for this for a long time."

"SILENCE" the judge screamed. The rabble stopped. All the court looked at Tom. A choice had been laid before him. A choice that would change everything.

Judge Marcus raised his brow in curiosity "Well? What will it be Tom?".

Tom wagered the options in his head.

Option A. Would he rather have his arms and legs cut off. Or, option B, sleep with Rosie O'donnell. It was tough. Tom knew the jury had taken their time with this one. If it had been the tiger pit against a bathtub of fire ants the choice would have come to him like song. Something as chaotic as this though, it was rough as gravel and as cutting as a razor. Both options would leave him with scars that would never heal. Tom had to choose. The scars that could be seen. Or, the scars that only he would know the sting of.

After much debate, he could no longer play this game of torture. Tom pulled his gun from his pocket, with a single finger twitch he fired. Rosie O'donnell was indeed a creature, but she could not survive a bullet to the head.

"I'll take option B."

A corpse was easier than the real thing. Tom would have to face another punishment for what he had done, but the fear invoked by Rosie O'donnell and her many chins could never be played against him again. A few thrusts later, justice had been served, and Tom was given his next court date.

"In the matter of the State of West Virginia vs. Russel K. Greene - foreman, has the jury reached a decision?"

"We have, Judge Sheffield."

I'm Tyresse Brown, the first black man to ever serve as foreman of a capitol murder jury in Mercer County. Russel Greene had been accused of killing 19 people by dropping rocks, anvils and other heavy objects onto cars traveling through I-64 near Charleston.

Incidents of serial murder had gone up since the 2021 implementation of the Federal Prison Reform act of 2019, allowing judges far more flexibility in sentencing - you might say far more whimsey - as part of President Trump's attempt to hold fewer people in our federal prisons. A serial killer in Iowa was sentenced to patching potholes for 16 years. A Baptist minister from Huntsville, Alabama who set the church on fire during a snake-handling ritual is now serving as chaplain at 3 different Alabama prisons.

But back to Mr. Greene. It wasn't that long ago that a serial killer like this might have earned the death penalty. But the Supreme Court banned that last year. And with President Trump's orders to cut the number of federal prisoners by 10% there was literally nowhere to put Mr. Greene.

Which put us, the jury, in an interesting position. There was conclusive evidence that Mr. Greene had purchased 25 fifty-pound anvils from EMCA, Inc in Texas. There was some evidence that he had perpetrated some of the killings - but it was far from conclusive. Still, it was clear that Judge Sheffield preferred to not send Mr. Greene to prison.

"We the jury find Russel K. Greene guilty of 6 counts of conspiracy to commit murder, 14 counts of murder, and 3 counts of voluntary manslaughter."

"Thank you for your service. We'll have sentencing immediately. Mr. Greene, I'll ask you five questions. Would you rather date an Aquarius or a Pisces?"

"Aquarius"

"Would you rather spend your time with Alex Rodriguez or Barry Bonds?"

"Barry Bonds, I guess."

"Krispy Kreme or Dunkin Donuts?"

"Dunkin Donuts. For Coffee."

"Would you rather do Barry Bonds or Rhonda Rousey"?

"Rousey"

"Michael Jackson: Black or White?"

"Black"

"OK, taking your answers into consideration, I sentence you to 250 years of maintenance at the Rhonda Rousey museum in Houston. You will be paid half the federal minimum wage for time worked. Ms. Rousey may beat the shit out of yo from time to time. Court is adjourned."

250 years of labor. I guess people can get what they deserve even in a post-prison society.

The woman had tormented many of her own family - but without knowledge of her actions, or their consequences, due to a birth anomaly in her neural cortex. Like a blind person might have enhanced senses, her skills and talents have caused her to become an asset to her government, and she works at the top levels of secrecy in the development of parts of the new security apparatus. There is no trial or court, not only because that would be anathemus to national security, but because morally she is without blame.

Neurological surgical techniques become available that would allow doctors to regenerate those parts of her brain that were removed at birth. Would she rather allow these stem-cell techniques to allow her to become a normal person who can emotionally and personally care for her family and those she knows, or would she rather continue to be a controlled procedural personnel whose acts might one day be a part of the salvation of our nation?

Is it her own choice, given the gravity of the situation? That is the question. Who does the picking, the choosing, and ultimately, who cares for the woman or - if she is not allowed to choose for herself - those who are in her control?

At her age, neurological modification carries significant risks and delays to military advances with relevance to national security. Who makes the call? Woman versus machine?

I’d been in jail waiting for my hearing for nearly a month now. It seemed as though my petty theft was going to get me a heavy sentence. I’d needed money because I had been our of a job for months and couldn’t even support myself and I got desperate.

At the day of my hearing, everyone filed in and the judge had taken her spot at the top of the room. She explained to me what I had done and for several hours my lawyer argues on my behalf but informed me that it was not going well. Finally, the judge made his decision and gave me my sentence.

“Christopher Stevens, you have been sentenced with petty theft. Now, would you rather stick your hand into a jar full of spiders or smell like a rotting corpse for a year?” said the judge.

I didn’t know what to say. I’ve always had a major fear of spiders. Their legs crawling up my hand and eyes staring into my soul. I also couldn’t imagine walking around with the smell of a dead man on me for a year either. The looks I would get from the innocent people in the street. People would know that I’m a criminal. I’d be kicked out of stores and shoved off of the bus. I only had a couple of minutes to decide, so I did the only thing that would make sense.

“Your honor, I’d rather stick my had in the jar of spiders.” I said.

I didn’t know what I was doing, my head was spinning just thinking about it. They quickly grabbed the jar of spiders from the back room and set it in front of me. I went to put my had into the jar. Slowly reaching towards the huge jar of at least one hundred small spiders. The last think I remember was shoving my hand in and seeing the spiders crawl up my fingers before I passed out.

I have never stolen since for the court systems are cruel and corrupted.

Feedback is welcome.

[removed]

[removed]

Monday. I really can't stand Monday.

Make it in, get my coffee, get in court. Judge Rambles is there. All rise, all that. This is so boring. The only thing I ever even care about is what the defendants choose. Even that...

So, based on all of those things, Mr. Hamburg, your options are the following. You can either lick my ass completely dry for the next thirty days. Or, you can be locked down on a table in a damp, hot room with poison ivy having been applied, and no way to itch it.

Mr. Hamburg puts his index finger to his lips as he looks down and thinks about the situation. I've realized a few things recently.

Judge Rambles likes to throw in the ass licking a little too often. But, hey, who am I? Just your regular Bailiff trying to earn a paycheck.

Mr. Hamburg turns to his lawyer, and whispers a few things. I can't hear him, but I hear his lawyer say, "He keeps a pretty clean ass, all things considered."

Mr. Hamburg nods, and says, "I'll take your ass."

Judge Rambles bangs the gavel, and reiterates the sentence, and Hamburg and his lawyer are dispersed while I plan for the next defendant. This is going to be a long Monday.

[deleted]

"Would you rather die now or serve a life sentence?" The judge says. His words echo about the court room. It is the year 2015. This is an american court.

The criminal being prosecuted double takes. He has a look of utter surprise. He is so surprised, he might have told you he couldn't imagine being more surprised by anything.

The judge recognizes this. He explains in a serious, judges' voice- "I don't have to explain, but feel it best you know, I have the ability to use would you rather sentences in this court. It may not be common sense, but it is technically legal. It's only something a couple courts have started doing. Now I was going to give you a life sentance, but I want you to decide, would you rather serve a life sentence, or be executed now?"

The criminal understands, but that does not ease his discomfort with this new situation. He hyperventilates for a couple seconds or so, and then passes out.

The end!

[removed]

The defendant stands in the court room stomping his feet. The judge glared at him. The judge is asking him some very mean questions. Whenever the defendant said a word, he banged his gavel.

It's obvious that the defendant was annoyed by the judge: "Would you mind not banging your gavel, instead, talk to me."

Everytime the defendant tried to say a word, the policeman behind him started to cough. The defendant turned around and told him:" dumb broad!"

The judge banged his gavel again to show his impatience while the policeman stared at him much like a lion stares at his prey.

The judge said:"Would you rather lose your eyes, or your ears?"

The defendant said:"I don't want to lose any of them. Ouch !"

The police kicked him. Cut, everyone did very well, let's have lunch, said the director.

[removed]