Open (Parenthesis
After two beers too many, the dog finally begins to make sense: "The rhythm of a heartbeat permeates the soundtrack of eternal entropy. Hand me a pig ear".
Family Court is a veritable petri dish of joy, angst and boredom. The adoptions are processed first, so as to clear the building of shiny happy people and to make way for chronic victims and venomous snakes. Negative body language mingles with nervous body odor and the occasional Wild Turkey mouthwash. The warring parties are often encouraged to settle their differences before meeting with the support magistrate. This is usually a mistake. The conversation goes something like this:
Arrogant Bastard: I declare my DNA to be lime Kool-Aid.
Pouty Bitch: I will feed your entrails to hungry piranhas.
Court Officer: Doesn't this gun makes me look like a bad-ass?
The adversarial nature of Family Court guarantees that at least one of the warring parties will leave unhappy. They typically start out that way as well - missing a day of work to sit around and wait three hours for a five minute hearing. People are usually there because a relationship has ended. The court has the responsibility of performing an autopsy on the dead relationship - not in order to determine the cause of death, but rather to place a price upon the corpse. This price is periodically negotiated, long after the products of said relationship canonize Pouty Bitch and curse the ground that dared to be touched by the shadow of Arrogant Bastard. Court Officer doesn't care that you woke up at 3 in the morning and drove 200 miles to get there on a day when you should have been herding bits in your cubicle maze. The Magistrate wants you to kiss his ring, but to do it quickly so as not to delay his tee time. When push comes to shove, however, any semblance of a firm decision is deferred. You are ushered out of the hearing chamber faster than you can say "Hey, Mister Court Officer. Can I try your gun?" Pouty Bitch and Arrogant Bastard race each other for the door, avoiding eye contact while exuding parallel airs of disdain. The games have just begun.
After two beers too many, the dog finally begins to make sense: "The rhythm of a heartbeat permeates the soundtrack of eternal entropy. Hand me a pig ear".
Family Court is a veritable petri dish of joy, angst and boredom. The adoptions are processed first, so as to clear the building of shiny happy people and to make way for chronic victims and venomous snakes. Negative body language mingles with nervous body odor and the occasional Wild Turkey mouthwash. The warring parties are often encouraged to settle their differences before meeting with the support magistrate. This is usually a mistake. The conversation goes something like this:
Arrogant Bastard: I declare my DNA to be lime Kool-Aid.
Pouty Bitch: I will feed your entrails to hungry piranhas.
Court Officer: Doesn't this gun makes me look like a bad-ass?
The adversarial nature of Family Court guarantees that at least one of the warring parties will leave unhappy. They typically start out that way as well - missing a day of work to sit around and wait three hours for a five minute hearing. People are usually there because a relationship has ended. The court has the responsibility of performing an autopsy on the dead relationship - not in order to determine the cause of death, but rather to place a price upon the corpse. This price is periodically negotiated, long after the products of said relationship canonize Pouty Bitch and curse the ground that dared to be touched by the shadow of Arrogant Bastard. Court Officer doesn't care that you woke up at 3 in the morning and drove 200 miles to get there on a day when you should have been herding bits in your cubicle maze. The Magistrate wants you to kiss his ring, but to do it quickly so as not to delay his tee time. When push comes to shove, however, any semblance of a firm decision is deferred. You are ushered out of the hearing chamber faster than you can say "Hey, Mister Court Officer. Can I try your gun?" Pouty Bitch and Arrogant Bastard race each other for the door, avoiding eye contact while exuding parallel airs of disdain. The games have just begun.
Family Court is a veritable petri dish of joy, angst and boredom. The adoptions are processed first, so as to clear the building of shiny happy people and to make way for chronic victims and venomous snakes. Negative body language mingles with nervous body odor and the occasional Wild Turkey mouthwash. The warring parties are often encouraged to settle their differences before meeting with the support magistrate. This is usually a mistake. The conversation goes something like this:
Arrogant Bastard: I declare my DNA to be lime Kool-Aid.
Pouty Bitch: I will feed your entrails to hungry piranhas.
Court Officer: Doesn't this gun makes me look like a bad-ass?
The adversarial nature of Family Court guarantees that at least one of the warring parties will leave unhappy. They typically start out that way as well - missing a day of work to sit around and wait three hours for a five minute hearing. People are usually there because a relationship has ended. The court has the responsibility of performing an autopsy on the dead relationship - not in order to determine the cause of death, but rather to place a price upon the corpse. This price is periodically negotiated, long after the products of said relationship canonize Pouty Bitch and curse the ground that dared to be touched by the shadow of Arrogant Bastard. Court Officer doesn't care that you woke up at 3 in the morning and drove 200 miles to get there on a day when you should have been herding bits in your cubicle maze. The Magistrate wants you to kiss his ring, but to do it quickly so as not to delay his tee time. When push comes to shove, however, any semblance of a firm decision is deferred. You are ushered out of the hearing chamber faster than you can say "Hey, Mister Court Officer. Can I try your gun?" Pouty Bitch and Arrogant Bastard race each other for the door, avoiding eye contact while exuding parallel airs of disdain. The games have just begun.
posted by extraspecialbitter at 1:25 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home