Obsession
“Obnoxious and obstinate for justice.”
Ads with that tagline for obese defense attorney Obadiah O’Byrne are everywhere in southern Illinois, including his hometown, Oblong.
One of O’Byrne’s billboards got the attention of optometrist Obie Obata. So, when Obata was sued by an obscure patient who claimed his new lenses obfuscated his vision, O’Byrne was Obie’s obvious choice for courtroom representation.
The trial gets under way, and Obadiah O’Byrne exhibits his ballyhooed obnoxious and obstinate traits. He objects at every turn. He throws up legal obstacles and makes obscure motions.
However, the judge had had enough of Obadiah O’Byrne on the first afternoon of trial. She observed: “Mister O’Byrne, if you object again to my latest evidentiary ruling, I will cite you for contempt and nip this hearing in the bud. I will declare a mistrial, and force your client to hire a new…”
But O’Byrne interrupted, “I object again!” He also muttered an obscenity.
The judge banged the gavel. “Mr. O’Byrne,” she said, “you are in contempt for not obeying my ruling. You obliterated this trial. I order your client to secure new representation for a new trial.”
“But your honor,” O’Byrne observed, “please know that I am not oblivious to your obsession for conducting fair trials and meting out even-handed justice and…”
“Mr. O’Byrne,” the judge interrupted, “the trial is over. Perhaps you should change your billboard tagline to read: “Obnoxious and obstinate and obsequious.”
Summer Camp Debate
Liam sits at the kitchen table, absently stirring his cereal. He can hear them in the other room, voices hushed but sharp-edged, the way people whisper when they don’t want to be heard but want their words to cut all the same.
“It’s just a summer,” Dad says. “It’s not like we’re sending him away forever.”
“He’s eleven, John.” Mom’s voice is thinner, pulled tight. “Eleven. He doesn’t need to be ‘sent away’ at all.”
“We can still take a trip later in the year,” Dad says. “He needs… I mean, you’ve seen how he is. He doesn’t like any of the stuff boys his age should like. And now—” A pause, a breath. “Now he’s calling that Mitchell boy his ‘best friend in the world.’”
Mom exhales, slow and controlled. “So what? I thought you wanted him to have friends.”
Dad’s voice lowers further, but Liam can still hear it. “I want him to have the right ones.”
The way he says it drops Liam’s stomach, like missing a step on the stairs. He presses his spoon into the slush of his cereal, staring at it.
“I’m not punishing him for being different,” Mom says, her voice growing sharper.
“Nipped in the bud,” Dad says. “Before it gets any worse.”
Mom’s silence is thick. Then, a quieter voice: “We promised him Disneyland.”
Dad sighs, heavy and impatient. “There’s still time to change his path, Carol.”
Mom’s voice is softened steel. “You’re not changing anything about him.”
The house stays silent for a long moment after that. Liam doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe too loudly. His cereal has turned into a soggy mess.
fool
to stop the snake from roaming in the garden
you have to cut off it's head
and it will no longer be a problem
when the weeds start to usurp the garden
you have the pull them out before the taint the plants
and your garden will be pure
but the snake's may keep coming and the weeds might keep growing
you may think you're safe because you nipped it in bud
but you don't actually know much.
flightSchool v2
hiya
hey
shall we
sightsee
c’mon
let’s lift off
h pad
snowcaps
look like cersei
look like sweet cream
fly like kirby
over ibex
climb kings
(salt fiends)
up here
seas look like streams
cloud cushions split beams
kite high
warp speed
wrap your wings
’round me
energy
between 2
worlds
between blue
ff7 map view
scrap book
fragments
glue
*achooo*
supreme math
supreme energy
build/destroy
an 8
on the side
like infinity
or
2 enso symbols
zen symmetry
or
2 spinning plates
with a supermodel waist
likely to give way
under enough torque
given enough days
well…
so much time
so much air
went stale
but
before we split cells
draw that line
like olympia hotel
humour a chap
1 more lap
a night cap
to tickle entrails
tears turn to hail
size of snail shells
rip skin chunks
leave scars like braille
well…
well.
