I swear to god: I’m quitting defence and leaving the agency. For good.

Yesterday, I headed to the detention centre to meet my new client. I was quite happy about it, because I hadn’t had a job in months. And not doing anything, In my life, amounts to sitting on an old couch (with most of the springs broken), half-buried in magic props and empty juice bottles, while a hyper-active teenager shouts ‘Alakazing!’ before dropping a rabbit onto my head. This results in me spending the next two hours re-applying my gel, and trying to get the droppings out of my hair with a nit-comb.

But, of course, halfway through this all of the shampoo bottles in the bathroom fly of the shelves, before emptying their contents over me.

Sometimes, I really hate Trucy.

But I digress. I finally got a job, so I was in the detention centre, wondering who this person was, and what they were being accused of.

I bet it’s murder.

After about fifteen minutes in the waiting room, the guard called me in. Presumably leaving the door unguarded, which was stupid of him. Anyway, I strided into the room, complete with snazzy suit, flashy attorney badge, stylish hair, and a genuine (well, genuine-looking) smile. If you’d seen me, you would’ve hired me on the spot. Even if you hadn’t been accused of anything.

And I was expecting, for once, a normal, friendly, maybe slightly uneasy client. The sort of person who actually acts like they’ve been wrongly accused of murder (I’m almost certain it was murder). Instead I’m met by a man named Alfred Global. He was a thin guy, quite tall, dressed in a black suit. Actually, he reminded me of that skeleton from the nightmare before Christmas. What was his name….? Was it Jack? I think it was Jack.

‘So….Mr. Jack.’ Ack! You idiot!

Before I could inwardly curse myself, Jack (Alfred, damnit!) chipped in to correct me.

‘Actually, good sir, my name is Global. Alfred Global. It is, I assure you, a pleasure to make the acquaintance of such a personage as yourself, and I am sure you humbly excuse your own ignorance-incited error.

Eh? ‘Oh, um….yes. Yes, I humbly excuse my….err….Well…that. The, err….thing that you said. Ugh. I feel ill.

‘Now, good sir, I can only assume, with good confidence in my own intuitive abilities, that you are here regarding the unpleasant incident of which I have been incorrectly accused?

….why, god? Why do you torture me so?

‘Yes, Mr. Global. That is exactly why I am here. If you don’t mind me asking, who is it that you’ve been accused of murdering?

‘Murder? Good sir, I am charged with the accusation of arson. Murder is not involved anywhere in my case, as the buildings burnt by the flame were in an abandoned area.’

Oh. Er…. ‘Right, Er, yes. Arson. Of course, that is the….case….we have here.’

‘Indeed. I believe we have grasped, good sir, an authentic and assertive, assumption-free, assessment of the situation in which I find myself. Do not fear, good sir – I confide that my confidence in you is quite correct, wouldn’t you agree?

Can I…..Object to this?

‘Well…..Anyway. Shall we….Er….Get started?’

‘Oh, but of course. I presume you wish to question my capability to assert my innocence, by proving potently that-

OBJECTION!!!!

…And that’s why I’m here, back on the couch, with my snazzy suit stained with grape juice, and my-

‘Alamazak!’

‘No, Trucy, don’t-

*Smash!*

…..And then Trucy made an old vase fly into my head. Still filled with murky-brown water from the last plant that died in it.

‘TRUCY!!!’

‘Aw, come in, Polly. It’s magic!’

While she was talking, Mr. Wright had slipped into the room (presumably looking for a bottle of his juice), so I decided to ask for his support.

‘Mr. Wright, please, stop Trucy!’

‘Trucy, what you are doing is very, very wrong.’

Much better, I thought, and slipped back into my less-than-comfortable position.

‘It’s actually ‘Alakazam’. Okay?’

‘Not ‘Alamazak’?’

‘No, Trucy. Alakazam.’

‘Okay. Thanks, daddy! Hey, Polly, look at this! ALAKAZAM!’

‘Wait, Trucy, please don’t-

*Smash!*

…GRRRRRRRRRRR!

Mr. Wright isn’t a typical attorney. I know this because, if all attorneys were like him, defendants would murder their own lawyers. A LOT.

Today I had the ‘unbridled joy’ of waiting in Mr. Wright’s ‘office’ (which, incidentally, looks very similar to a cupboard) while he filled ‘forms’ (which, incidentally, looked very similar to a drawing of a cow) and hummed ‘the pink panther.’ So, an example of a recent half-hour in my life goes something like this:

‘Badum badummmmmmm. Badum badummmmmmm. Badum Badum. Badum. Badum Badum Badum badoodeedummmmmmmm. Doodoodeedumdum.’

Over and over again. He doesn’t even know the rest of the song. I pity the visitors to the ‘borsht bowl club’, I really do.

After this, he finally decided to look up long enough to give me his order.

‘Listen, Apollo, I have a case for you.’

A case? Yes! Finally!

‘It’s very important.’

Ooh, I wonder who the client’ll be!

‘My mission for you is…’

Here it comes!

‘To find Trucy something to do at her party!

….huh?

‘Here, I’ve got a list of things for you to try out!’

He then thrust a piece of paper into my hand, on the back of which was a picture of a cow. This being an important legal ‘form’. On the front-side, several party ideas were scrawled untidily.

‘Er…..Party?’ This can’t end well…

‘Oh, Trucy’s sour sixteenth is coming up soon! Nice, eh?’

‘It’s ‘Sweet sixteenth’.

‘Gazzuntyke.’

And with that, I was forced to find Trucy a fun activity for her party. I turned my attention to the list.

Idea 1: Charades
‘Erm….A whale! A…..beach ball? Ooh, ooh! Polly, Polly, I know it! It’s a……err…..a…….’

‘Marvin Grossburg?’ Was Mr. Wright’s suggestion.

I…..surrender.

‘I’m a goalkeeper! A GOALKEEPER, DAMN YOU!’

Idea 2: Scrabble

‘Polly, how do you play scrabble?’

‘I have…….no idea.’

Idea 3: Monopoly

‘Hey, Polly, It’s like you!’

‘No, it isn’t. And I don’t know how to play this either.’

‘Oh, It’s easy, Polly! You just get the dice, and…whoops!’

‘Throw them out the window?’

‘I didn’t mean to do that! Besides, Polly, I didn’t ‘throw them out the window!’

‘I’m sorry, what do YOU call that, then?’

‘I made them disappear! I am a magician, you know.’

‘I had noticed.’ And she definitely threw them. Trust me on this.

Idea 4: Cluedo

‘Are all of your ideas board-games?’

But Mr. Wright was ever so slightly drunk by this point, so just replied by saying ‘Wassat?’

Idea 5: Push Mr. Wright over

‘Polly!’

‘I’m just doing what it says on the list!’

‘That’s YOUR handwriting, Polly!’

‘Spoilsport…’

All of this took so long that, by the time we’d done everything on the list, night had fallen.

‘Polly, It’s only 5.45 the afternoon!’

Afternoon had fallen.

‘Although, that does technically mean that it’s dusk, doesn’t it?’

Dusk. Had. Fallen.

‘Well, actually, when you think about it-

‘Trucy?’

‘Yeah, Polly?’

‘Alakazam!’

*smash*

‘POLLY!!!! THAT HURT!!!!!!!!!’

Now THAT is justice.