Court Records

Marvin Grossberg wasn't having a very good day.

From the moment he had rolled himself out of bed he wasn't feeling quite right. After his usual daily shower and slathering of Preparation H over the hemorrhoids that danced along his gargantuan butt cheeks he had felt somewhat ill.

He sat at his desk, looking at the painting that was displayed on the wall. However, today he could tell that his gaze lacked the same love and adoration that he usually had when he looked upon it. He did not feel the same tingly perkiness to his massive man-tits that he normally felt upon studying the image.

Something was definitely amiss.

With slight difficulty, Grossberg pushed his large girth up from the chair that he sat and brought his sausage-like fingers to his forehead, brushing away a few beads of sweat. He lowered his arm and looked at his watch, disheartened that he had only been there for fifteen minutes. He looked again over at the painting and decided to sit back down.

Grossberg waddled over to where his desk was, turning his chair so he may sit in it. However, as he began to sit he felt a sudden flaring pain in his belly.

"Oh... Dammit! I should have known better than to have Mexican take-out last night!" he said to no one while mentally bashing himself.

With agility not normally seen in a man of his size, he made haste across his large office to the restroom. He rushed in, dropping his pants as he did and closed and locked the door.

"UhhhOohhhHHHhhh," he cried as he pressed a hand to his stomach.

Carefully positioning his large rear, he slowly sat down on the toilet, cringing slightly as he felt a hemorrhoid or two pop as he settled firmly against the seat.

He brought his hand again to his forehead, wiping away more sweat before adjusting the small spectacles upon his nose.

"Hmmmppphhhh!!"

He bit his lip and balled his fists, attempting to push out whatever contents may lie deep within his colon.

Despite his efforts, though, nothing came out. Nothing came out and the awful pain in his belly had grown much worse. Grossberg's eyes began to water and he felt a tear trickle down his cheek. He clenched his fists harder and began to push again, this time with complete vigor.

"Hurrrr...PPPHhHHUUUURR!!!! NNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHH!!!!"

His eyelids were pressed tightly together and his knuckles white from how tightly he balled his fists. He felt something moving - seemed like this was going to be one of those extra large ones he had now and then. Grossberg kept pushing, biting down on his lip, until he felt a splitting pain in his rear. A very feminine blood-curtling scream could be heard throughout the building as he pushed the last of it out from his colon.

Grossberg collapsed against the floor, taking very short raspy breaths. He lay like this for a few moments until he found the very fresh, very sweet scent of lemons invading his nostrils.

Opening his eyes, he glanced towards the toilet, nearly going into cardiac arrest when he saw upon the toilet a large egg.

"What. In. God's. Name?!" Grossberg jumped to his feet, quickly pulling his slacks back up and fastened his belt.

With extreme caution, he inspected the egg, fingering the sides of the smooth shell. The lemony scent seemed to be eminating from the egg. Perplexed, he tapped his knuckle lightly against it. He waited, but nothing happened. He tapped it again, but this time a little harder. A noise came stirring from within it.

Grossberg adjusted his tie and took a step back. The egg started shaking, cracks jetting down the sides of the shell. His eyes went wide as he slumped against the wall, again feeling the popping of more hemorrhoids as his heiny hit the floor.

Rays of golden light beamed from the egg as it broke open. Grossberg covered his eyes with his forearm for a moment, closing his eyes until the light had faded. Slowly, he lowered his arm and opened his eyes, unsure of what monstrosity may lie before him.

"PEEP PEEP PEEP!!"

His jaw dropped. Before him sat a figure resembling attorney Winston Payne, glasses, beautiful grey locks and all.

He couldn't help but stare in complete disbelief. The figure looked at him and cocked it's head to the side in an almost curious manner. They continued to stare at eachother for another good minute or so until Grossberg noticed a tear trail down from behind the glasses and down the cheek of the creature.

"Wait... wh-what am I doing? This cannot be Winston Payne! This egg... This came from within me. This is... MY CHILD!"

At his glorious revelation, Grossberg quickly stood up, holding his arms out and slowly approached his new baby with a proud, fatherly smile. Winston-bird peeped happily, thrilled that it finally had been accepted by it's mother. More of that lemony fresh scent filled the large restroom.

"Oh~ I bet my widdle baby-waby is hungry~!" Grossberg said as he lightly pinched the cheeks of his newborn.

However, what was he supposed to feed this child?

He paused for a moment, trying to think. After a few moments of pondering, he remembered something he had seen recently in a documentary about some kind of bird.

Since his child came from an egg, surely that was going to be the same route he needed to take.

Winston-bird glanced happily up at its mother. Grossberg moved his hands to rest on the shoulders of Winston-bird. Slowly, he leaned in, finding his face very close to that of his child's. He paused momentarily, listening to both of them take slow, unsure breaths. Assuring himself that this was what he needed to do, Grossberg pressed his lips firmly against Winston-bird's.

He then regurgitated.

A flower-bedecked pink bedroom, so pink that any casual observer would be forgiven for thinking it belonged to a little girl. It was true that its owner was very feminine in many ways. He certainly wasn't little, though he loved to talk about himself as 'she.'

"'Allo, baby."

Standing in front of a wall-length mirror was the owner of the room, a pink-cheeked muscular monster of a man - wearing makeup, hair impeccably in place, wearing a tiny black lacy French maid costume.

He kissed his reflection tenderly. "Oh yes, la lips, oh la, she is like plump ripe cher-ries." He posed in front of the mirror, a saucy position, one hand on his own hip, rear towards the mirror.

"What a firm derriere you have, mon choux." Bright color arose in his cheeks as he stared at his own reflection, and he batted his eyelashes. "Why, you talk to such an innocent maiden as I like that, oh, it is to blush at!"

Slowly, he sidled towards the mirror, the black silk outfit threatening to burst at the seams over his muscles, and began to rub himself slowly against it. "Oohhhh," he breathed, fogging the glass as he licked it.

"Your body, it is so firm and hard, oui? Not all curves, like la delicate fille comme moi." Giggling, he began to peel his outfit off slowly, a sensual striptease.

When the mirror spontaneously shattered, he stared at it in amazement.

A mirror was hardly a sentient being,

yet if the full length mirror in Matt Engarde’s mansion was sentient and had the capacity for feelings; it would have lived most of a non existent life in nothing but pure bliss.

As far as mirrors went it was gorgeous, a true contestant for one of the finest mirrors in the world. It had been very specifically ordered. Hand made with a real silver backing to be exactly the height of Mat Engarde and was made with only the finest crystal. There was an intricate (real) gold lining around it.

It had hardly been inexpensive either, but what was money in comparison to a reflection of one’s self that looked almost better than one did in real life? Matt Engarde was amazed when he’d first look at himself in it, he hadn’t thought it was possible for him to look any better, but that mirror had proved him wrong.

It had been hung up on the wall of Matt Engarade’s bedroom, after all, he’d paid for it, why should anyone else get to use it? A mirror so perfect could only belong to someone as perfect as him. Every morning it was cleaned with a cloth and polish that were used specifically for the mirror and nothing else.

If a mirror had the ability to be lonely, Matt Engarde’s mirror would suffer no such affliction. The actor looked into it every time he entered his bedroom. He could even spend hours in front of it, just looking into it.

If it could have the mirror would have most likely been embarrassed by the endearments the man made towards it.

Indeed, similarly to an animal filled with nothing but affection for its owner, the mirror would have loved Matt Engarde given the chance. Even when he was a little odd, hair slicked back to reveal angry red scars and ranting disturbing plans and nasty things about some other man, the mirror would have loved him.

And it would have been assured that Mat Engarde loved it. It would have been overjoyed that it was the only thing in the world, other than himself, and perhaps power, that Matt truly loved. It would have been the happiest mirror in the world.

The actor sighed heavily as he lounged on his king sized bed, complete with silken sheets, and stared into a mirror almost as flawless as he.

If only mirrors were sentient.

He sighed contentedly. Finally, finally, he’d gotten that damn lock changed and didn’t have to worry about Maya walking in on him. Phoenix slumped back against the door for a moment and wiped sweat from his brow before straightening with a smile and heading for the bathroom.

He shut that door behind him, too, but that lock had been broken for eons so he didn’t bother with it. Grinning now, he picked up one of his cleaners- he had a whole array of them- and started whistling as he knelt to scrub the toilet.

It was only a moment before a curious squirrel hopped up on the open window ledge and cocked its head at him.

Phoenix smiled at the little squirrel. “Just whistle while you work!” He whistled a demonstration for the inquisitive little guy, who hopped all the way in the window and scurried across the counters to perch on Phoenix’s shoulder.

“And cheerfully together we can get the ev-i-dence in one place!” A bird he hadn’t noticed before that must have landed in the window after his squirrel friend whistled a passable imitation of his tune.

Phoenix’s grin grew wider. “So hum a gay old tune, hm-hm-hmm-hm-hm-hm, it’s won’t take long when there’s a song to help us solve the case!”

More birds had flocked in, much to Phoenix’s delight, and the squirrel had apparently brought friends, and his friends had brought their chipmunk friends, and the chipmunks had brought, oddly enough, some stray cats with them. The bathroom was getting crowded, but he figured that was all right since the critters were being remarkably helpful- while the first squirrel stayed perched on his shoulder the others were industriously using their tails to sweep dust and dirt off the toilet,

the chipmunks were attempting to drag the brightly-coloured damp washcloths over to wipe it clean, and the birds were flapping their wings to create the wind to dry it off. The cats, being cats, crouched on the counter or window ledge and watched everyone else work.

“And as you gather clues, hm-hm-hmm-hm-hm-hm…” Those birds that imitated human voices echoed his whistle. “Imagine that your client, is someone that you love and soon- you’ll find that you can’t lose!”

Unfortunately, Phoenix had forgotten that a changed lock doesn’t, in fact, do any good whatsoever if you’ve forgotten to lock the door.

He didn’t hear the office door open. He didn’t hear a voice call out, puzzled, “Wright?”

And he didn’t hear the bathroom door swing open.

“…When hearts are high the witnesses lie so whistle while you work!”

He heard the sound of a briefcase falling and bursting open as it hit the floor, though. All the animals save the one bold squirrel scattered at the sound, some going back out the window, some trying to hide in the shower, some trying to hide behind the toilet itself. Phoenix, having no such recourse, slowly turned his head to look up at one very, very confused Miles Edgeworth.

Frantically, Phoenix tried to come up with an explanation for the Disney movie come to life the other man had just stumbled upon, but in the end could only come up with a rather desperate, “Nice weather today, isn’t it?” as he tried very hard to pretend that he did not have a squirrel on his shoulder and had not just been singing to a bevy of wild animals.

Judging from the pole-axed expression on Edgeworth's face, this cunning tactic did not work, and Phoenix decided instead to follow the birds out the window and hope Edgeworth would later think it all an insomnia-induced hallucination.

Jack the guard looked around the room. It was after normal visiting hours, so he could have gone home, but he didn't.

He stole a furtive glance towards the corner of the ceiling with the security camera. Cameron. Jack sighed and went a little weak in the knees. What a beautiful name, Cameron.

"Hello, Cameron, it's nice to finally be able to talk with you," began the guard, seductively undoing the top few buttons of his shirt, "It's been absolutely unbearable staying here without being able to talk to you. Don't you agree?"

Cameron's red light continued blinking in a steady rhythm. Jack assumed that meant "Yes."

"Oh, dear," said Jack, "my shirt accidentally came off," but it was quite likely not actually an accident at all. Jack then licked both his index fingers, one after the other, and started rubbing his nipples while slowly gyrating his hips, completely focused on Cameron's lens.

The door opened, "Now, Ms. Andrews, this is after normal visiting hours, b-" the guard escorting the woman into the room froze as he saw Jack, topless in the middle of the room.

Jack took a few seconds to notice this intrusion. Adrian stared from the doorway, mouth dumbly hanging open. Jack quickly put on his shirt, fumbling with the buttons. Adrian was in the same position.

Jack resumed his position by the door, saluted, and instructed the woman to act like he wasn't even there.

~ONE WEEK LATER~

Kane Bullard looked at his papers, then at the defiant security guard in front of him.

"Jack," Bullard began, "It says here you were seen behaving inappropriately at your post in a sexually suggestive manner."

"Yes, well, the woman who observed that was arrested and later convicted for tampering with a crime scene, so frankly, Mr. Bullard, I'm a bit insulted that you're taking her side of the story."

"The guard who escorted her to the room corroborated her story."

"It's still his word against mine, sir."

"There was video evidence, Jack."

Jack eye's unexpectedly welled up with tears as he tried in vain to hold them back. The woman and his co-worker, he had expected, but for Cameron to turn on him like this?

Jack now knew what true betrayal felt like.

"Cameron," choked out Jack, "Why would you do this to me? I'M CARRYING YOUR CHILD, CAMERON!"

Jack collapsed in a heap of tears on Mr. Bullard's desk. His life was over.