Author is a retired attorney having practiced for 35 years in Illinois who now lives in Texas and started writing stories about a year and a half ago.
Flippilocks and the Lost Election
There once was a young girl named Flippilocks. She was named that because her golden curly hair flipped up at the ends and bounced happily up and down as she went about her studies at one of the best self-proclaimed liberal arts schools in the country. Besides she flipped out easily and often and the name kind of fit.
And it came to pass that an election was held in the fall of her senior year and that her candidate lost. She could not deal with that and true to form she wigged or flipped out as they say. This was because the results were not to her liking, not the results she had been promised by the media and the pollsters.
She had been given counseling by the university, at taxpayers expense of course, to readjust her to the realities of the world. But alas nothing worked and she became so frustrated and discombobulated that she could not concentrate on her studies and would not graduate next spring because she failed some of her courses.
So she thought, what does one do when things aren’t to one’s liking in this country. Why one sues someone of course. So she hired Attorney Oyster Shyster a man with pearly white teeth, though that was not the reason she hired him. She hired him because he would take her case on a contingency fee basis, one third of whatever she got. She had no cash for an attorney because her student loans had bankrupted her for the rest of her life and a contingency fee was the only way she could hire an attorney. But she wasn’t wanting money, though Shyster was, really she was filing suit because it was the principle of the thing and nobody sues unless it’s for the principle of the thing. Right? That principle here was that one of her constitutional rights had been violated, the right to the pursuit of happiness. No way could she ever be happy with the person elected as President for he was not her president. The system had done her wrong.
Oyster Shyster, ever the attorney, decided to sue the one with the deep pockets here, the Federal Government of course. And not it was not just the The Federal Government and its system of electing a president that had done her wrong, others were to blame too. So he sued both political parties, one of them had to be to blame but he didn’t know which one, so he sued them both, and all the pollsters for having lied to her. They had all ruined her perfect life.
Attorney Miles Mole represented all the defendants. They only needed one attorney because basically they were all just one big entity anyway and were in cahoots together as usual. He was a shrew of a shrewd little man with a scrunched up face, squinty eyes, and two sharp buck teeth. He had spent a lifetime tunneling in and out and through the legal system and he knew all of its intricacies thereof and therefore he knew he was doomed to lose this case.
This was because the case was brought before the U.S. Supreme Court, a court of supreme, or should it be said extreme, principals and or principles. The case had been fast tracked to the Supreme Court at their request for they deemed it of national importance and urgency.
And so the trial commenced. “Mr. Shyster,” began Chief Justice Rue Unhingedburg, “you are asking the court to void the election and award a trillion dollars in damages to your client. Is that correct?”
“Yes Your Supremeness,” Oyster Shyster answered knowing that if he got a trillion dollars damages, his fee being one third thereof, he couldn’t do the math in his head, but he thought it had to be in the millions, that therefore he’d probably have enough money to retire on.
“A trillion dollars?” asked the black guy on the court.
“Yes Your Supremester. You’ve read the report of our psychiatrist Dr. Seigheil Freund which says that my poor client will never be cured. She will need constant psychiatric attention. Even if she has a good election and is healed, any bad election will cause her to go into a relapse arrest. It’s kind of like having shingles you know Your Honor. You’re never cured. My client will have a lifetime of medical bills and a trillion dollars would help some in paying those bills.” Oyster Shyster paused for effect and pointed to his client. This was Flippilock’s cue. She put on her sweet sad forlorn pouting cute little face and looked soulfully and sorrowfully as she batted her big blue eyes at each justice one at a time. “There see her. See how she suffers,” proclaimed Oyster.
“Objection,” spoke up Mr. Mole. “This child is covered under her parents insurance until she is twenty six thanks to the Amazing Health Care Act. She personally incurs no medical expenses at this time. Her folks do.”
“Good point,” said the black guy.
“But not good enough,” retorted Justice Unhingedburg. “There’s no point in coming back to this court for damages at a later time when we can do it now. Judicial efficiency is important,” she said not knowing she had just created a new oxymoron. “Knowing that there’s unlimited money for her in the future will help put her mind at ease now, today. Objection overruled.”
“Thank you Most Exalted One,” said Shyster as dollar signs flashed through caverns of his mind. “Your Honor at this time the Plaintiff calls the Plaintiff Miss Flippilocks to the stand.”
“Objection this is highly unusual Ms Justice,” interjected Mr. Mole.
“Well this election was highly unusual too wasn’t it Mr. Mole? Objection overruled. Proceed Mr. Shyster.”
Fliipilocks pranced up to the stand, her golden locks bouncing as she went. She curtsied to Justice Unhingedburg, took the oath, but promised to affirm as to the truth and not to swear to it, for a proper young lady does not swear, sat down and fluffed out her red, white, and blue colored fancy laced dress, her attorney picked it out for her to wear today, and smiled her dimples at the court.
“Now tell us how this election ruined your life young lady,” asked Attorney Shyster.
“Well,” she said, and here she paused, her brow furrowed. The windmills of her mind were not winding or milling as she tried to think of an answer. Finally the best she could come up with was, “Well it’s just not fair that’s all.”
Oyster Shyster knew he wasn’t dealing with the most honed knife in the drawer and she might not cut the mustard as a witness, so he took charge. “And it’s not fair because the media and pollsters promised you that your candidate would win didn’t they?”
And it’s not fair because the president elect hates women, will hold women back from realizing their full potential and thus you or all other women everywhere will never ever be able to crash into the glass ceiling will you?”
“And it’s not fair because he will make you pay for your own birth control pills and you’re afraid as a result thereof of you will get pregnant and have to spend a lifetime raising a bunch of children you didn’t want, aren’t you?”
“And you’re worried that he will step up the war against women and take away the right of women to vote and to drive cars aren’t you?”
Justice Unhingedburg got caught up in the excitement of this line of questioning and jumped right in, “And you’re worried about the rights of millions of Americans to receive welfare, and of the deporting of millions of lawful poor Mexicans and their families, and of moving the Berlin Wall to the Mexican border, and of spending billions of dollars on the military rather than helping the downtrodden citizens of this country who are victims of an unfair system of discrimination aren’t you?”
“Your Madameness I don’t know what all that means. I just know that I want my life to be like it was before all this happened, when everything was just right.” She lowered her head, took out her white embroidered dantie hankie from her made in America pocket book and wiped away forced tears from her rosy red cheeks.
“I don’t believe that’s asking for too much Your Honor,” piped up Oyster Shyster. “Politicians promise to make it right for us all the time.”
“Point well taken Mr. Shyster,” applauded Justice Unhingedburg. “Your witness Mr. Mole.”
Mr. Mole scrunched up his little face and waited until Flippilocks was through wiping away her fake tears. “Ms Flippi, excuse me Ms. Flippilocks, “You’ve never had a job have you?”
“No I haven’t.”
“And your folks have taken care of their little girl, meaning you, all your life haven’t they?”
“So if they created you, and they cared for you, then they, not the government are responsible for taking care of you now aren’t they?”
“Good point,” said the black guy.
“No it’s not,” barked Justice Unhingdburg, “Everyone knows It takes a government. That’s an old African proverb. You of all people black guy should know that.”
Miles Mole knew he was doomed.
Oyster Shyster had gotten out his calculator and was starting to figure up how many millions a third of a trillion was.
Fliipilocks sat there waiting for the next question from Attorney Shyster but he was so absorbed calculating his fee that he forgot all about her. She wasn’t use to being ignored. She was used to being the center of attention and after a while she couldn’t hold it in anymore and she imploded, “I just want to be happy. Is there anything wrong with that Your Godliness?” And she started to weep.
“Nothing is wrong with that dear,” responded Justice Unhingedburg. “You have the constitutional right in this country to the pursuit of happiness and it’s this court’s responsibility and duty to see that this right is not denied you. An election cannot trump your right to happiness.” Justice Unhingedburg went over and put her arm around the now sobbing young woman.
So the court ruled that day that the election would be set aside because it was too upsetting to poor Flippilocks and had prevented her from her exercising her right to the pursuit of happiness. And it further ruled that a new election was to be held and what the results therefrom were to be, based on the previous popular vote of course.
As to damages, well the court dared not increase the national debt by another trillion dollars because that would not be the politically prudent thing to do. So that they denied.
Mr. Shyster couldn’t retire, not quite yet anyway.
And as to Mr.Mole he went back to the darkness of his office and buried himself in his files and law books for the brilliance of the court’s ruling not only hurt his eyes but his head too.
And as to Flippilocks well she didn’t understand what had happened here but she read on the internet somewhere that she had won and that made her happy again.