Hank Rockjaw, Part 3

"And that's when I popped him in the mouth!" Hank said to the people in the courtroom. They laughed. Hank had arrived early with his gardener/lawyer, Hiram Hogginsox.

"Nicely done," the bailiff said. He went take his post near the door to the judge's chambers.

"You can't lose," said Estelle.

"That's up to Hiram!" Hank clapped him on the back.

"You got yourself into this with punching, we'll get you out of this with punching," Hiram said, shuffling some papers.

"There's not a jury in the state that would convict you. Mr. Spurlock had quite the villainous operation. Denying water to the local villagers in exchange for what amounts to indentured servitude? You may have solved the problem in an unorthodox manner but I doubt that anybody will hold that against you."

"That's why you're the best."

The doors to the courtroom swung open. A man in a wheelchair appeared, pushed by Zelphia Dipthong. She didn't look well, as if she hadn't slept at all last night; her hair was rumpled and she wore the same outfit that Hank had seen her in yesterday.

She still shone by comparison to the man. Josh Spurlock had both legs sticking out in front of him like plaster-encased battering rams. One of his arms was also in a cast. Purple ringed both eyes. His lips swelled like a water balloon about to burst.

Zelphia didn't acknowledge Hank. She pushed Josh into position next to the plaintiff's table, took a seat, and began to shuffle papers with shaky hands. Hank wondered if her anxiety was courtroom nerves or something else.

The door to the judge's chambers opened.

"Please stand, the Honorable Judge Richards presiding!" the bailiff bellowed.

"The Honorable Judge Richards is indisposed," said the bespectacled wraith in the judge's robes that emerged. He floated up to his seat. "I am Judge Spiknid. And I would be pleased if you would be as observant as your intelligence allows."

Hank shot a glance over to Hiram. The latter leaned in towards Hank.

"There's no judge by that name on this circuit," he whispered. "This is irregular."

"That's right, Mr…Hogginsox. All of the other judges are occupied so I was called in as a replacement. And it isn't that irregular, which you would know if you spent half as much time practicing law as you spend spreading cow pats among Mr. Rockjaw's begonias. Please be seated."

Hank leaned over to Hiram.

"Those begonias are fucking amazing."

"Silence! A few other items of housekeeping. One is that you may note that we have no jury. I believe that the issue at hand would be too complex for a jury to understand and thus interfere with due process. Therefore, I will be adjudicating the matter. The prosecution may proceed without any more mutters, whispers or other interruptions from the defense. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, your honor," Hiram said.

"Silence! Mr. Rockjaw, you have been charged with the crime of egregious punching and I hope that you take this grave accusation with all of the weight that it should be accorded," Judge Spiknid gestured to Zelphia. "Please begin."

"Your honor, I-" Zelphia said as she knocked a glass of water over onto her notes. "Oh dear."

The bailiff pulled out a handkerchief and helped her mop up her notes.

"I'm sorry, your honor."

"That's not problem. Take your time to collect yourself."

After a few moments, the bailiff resumed his position, Zelphia cleared her throat, and began.

"My client has suffered an unimaginable amount of distress and suffering at the hands – or should I say fists – of the defendent. Not only physical damage, of which the evidence is ample, but also mental and emotional anguish that we can never measure. All we ask is that-"

Zelphia took a step badly, her ankle went out from under her, and she would have went sprawling if Hank hadn't leapt over his desk and made a dive to catch her. Her hair waved across his face. It hadn't been washed or done. It still smelled like the dust from his ranch.

"I will have you thrown in jail for the duration of this trial if you do not unhand the prosecuting attorney at once!" Judge Spiknid smashed his gavel into its sound block.

"Thanks," Zelphia said, as Hank helped her to her feet.

"Don't mention it."

Hank resumed his seat. Zelphia continued her arguments, but Hank tuned out the trial. He had more important things to think about.

Why did Zelphia seem so nervous? Last night she had been cocksure, arrogant and composed. How did she go from nearly breaking off a heel in Hank's gut with a practiced, reflexive kick to stumbling on the floor of a court room? Had the vacancy in her eyes been fatigue or regret? Something was as fishy as a crooked fishmonger.

"Mr. Rockjaw, please," Judge Spiknid said. "At least pretend that you have a chance to win this case."

Hank realized that Hiram had been poking him in the ribs to get his attention.

"Your honor, I propose that we demonstrate, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Hank could not have punched Josh Spurlock," Hiram said to the room. To Hank, he whispered: "our defense still airtight. It just depends if he gives us a fair shake."

"I expect that it'll be as fair of a shake as an earthquake occuring the same weekend that a convention of card architects is in town."

After a brief flurry, a boxing dummy was wheeled into the room. Its foam face grimaced at Hank.

"Your honor, the defense would first like to congratulate the special effects makeup artist who did the plaintiff's injuries. They appear quite realistic. Unfortunately, time has made a fool of him, as the events in question happened over two months ago. The casts would be long gone and his face would be healed. Oh, I'm sorry. Unless you were born like that."

"Objection! Relevance!" Zelphia said.

"None at all," Judge Spiknid said. "Move on, Mr. Hogginsox."

"Here we have a boxing dummy. The dummy sits on a stand that mimics the weight and height, exactly, of the plaintiff. I would like to call my first and only witness, Hank Rockjaw. Hank, if you would please come here."

Hank stood up and approached Hiram and the boxing dummy.

"If you could, would you mind socking this dummy in the jaw?"

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now. You don't have to punch it hard, just enough to let it know that it should be glad that it doesn't have nerve endings."

Hank's right hand suddenly shot out and collided against the dummy's face with a bang that made everybody jump. The dummy disconnected from its stand. It sailed through the air, straight at the plaintiff's wheelchair. Luckily for Josh Spurlock, he was able to stand up and jump out of the way of the missile while the dummy crashed into his empty seat.

"The defense rests its case."

The doors to the court room flew open. A dozen worried bailiffs entered the room.

"We thought we heard a gunshot."

"No, just a straight shot to a foam jaw," Hiram said.

"But don't go anywhere." Judge Spiknid banged his gavel. "Hank Rockjaw, I find you guilty of the crime of egregious punching, and I also find you guilty of contempt of court. Sentencing will be tomorrow. You will be held without bail for the night."

Judge Spiknid stood up, bared his teeth at the room, and floated away into his chamber.

As soon as Hiram could pick his jaw up off the floor, he turned to Hank. "I'm not going back home until it's with you. And not just because you're my ride." He stuffed his papers into his briefcase and rushed out of the court room.

The bailiff walked up to Hank and sheepishly put him in handcuffs. As he led Hank towards the courthouse jail, he shook his head.

"Personally," the bailiff said, "I think that's enough bullshit to keep your begonias healthy for the next decade."