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Ms Dorothy Hickenbottom (Dot, to her friends) sat down to enjoy a nice afternoon of television as she knitted. She made sure her fancy water bottle was close, clicked the remote, and picked up the sweater she had been working on as the telly turned on. She wasn’t much for the “Reality” shows that put people on islands or tossed them around the world solving puzzles, but she did like the courtroom shows. People could be so ridiculous.
“TODAY, ON DIVORCE COURT LIVE … “
Dot got a little grin, this show was always good for a laugh, especially live, no chance to edit out the good bits! She watched as a blonde, kindly looking older gentleman walked into the court, and she immediately decided that he was the wronged party. He looked too, too innocent and corruptible in his neutral tone suit, looking like a librarian or something. He made his way to one of the little podiums and stood with straight posture, patiently waiting. The doors opened again and Dot watched as a red haired man in sunglasses, with more swagger than sense, sauntered in. Was he a rock star or celebrity of some kind? Maybe he was just late to the show and the older gentleman’s soon-to-be ex was behi- Nope. The redhead made his way behind the second podium and looked at the blonde with a weird condescending smile. Once they were in place, Judge Badcrumble appeared and took her seat behind the bench. She picked up the papers in front of her.
“Today we have the case of Mr Az Fell and M-”
“Excuse me, Judge Badcrumble, those are initials, A Z Fell, if you please.”
“Right. We have the case of Mr A Z Fell and Mr Anthony J Crowley, they ha-”
“Oh really, Crowley, you are still using the J?”
“I like it, be quiet.”
A loud and obvious cough interrupted and they fell silent. The judge looks over her glasses at each of them in turn before looking back to the papers.
”Thank you, gentlemen. Now, the case of Mr A Z Fell and Mr Anthony J Crowley. Mr Crowley is citing irreconcilable differences, and Mr Fell claims that … is this for real? … Mr Fell claims that quote-My darling Crowley certainly knew what he was getting into, this is simply one of my sweetheart’s tantrums, may I go home now, I’d like to bake some cookies for my ... I’m not saying that out loud … -end quote.” Judge Badcrumble looked up at them again, Mr Fell giving a small wiggle and looked at Mr Crowley with a tight smile.
“Really, Angel? That’s what you’re going with? You couldn’t even-”
“Ahem.” The redhead gave a small start and looked back to the judge who was looking at him sternly. “Right. Well, as you are the person who filed the petition, we will start with you, Mr Crowley. Please describe what you consider to be irreconcilable differences.”
“Right. Well, let’s start off with … tartan.” He groaned out the word as the blonde scoffed.
“Tartan.” Judge Badcrumble looked at him dryly before looking at Mr Fell. It was just a tie so far as she could tell. Not that tartan was really a basis for divorce as far as she was concerned anyway.
“Yep. It’s everywhere. Tie, socks, throw pillows, the duvet, biscuit tins, have you ever seen a full vanity set in tartan, Judge? I have. Soap dispensers, toothbrush holders, that little toothpaste squeezy thing you use when the tube is almost empty. He wore it. At. Our. Wedding.” Here he pulled out a wallet and flipped it open. A foldout photo holder unraveled and a plethora of photos of his husband stared at the judge as he pulled one out to hand to the bailiff. The redhead looked at the bailiff very seriously. “I’ll want that back in the same condition I gave it to you.”
The bailiff nodded and brought the photo to Judge Badcrumble who gave it a thorough look. “Mr Crowley, I hardly think that a matching tie and pocket square in tartan is excessive.” She handed it back for the bailiff to return.
Mr Crowley held out his hand for the photo. “To be honest, neither did I, but what was underneath the suit was unreal. I mean his arse looks nice either way but-”
“THAT’S enough, Mr Crowley, I’m sure the courtroom doesn’t need to hear that.”
The courtroom chuckled on cue as Dot grumbled that she wanted to hear it. This was the best episode she’d ever seen!
Judge Badcrumble took a deep breath. “Alright, moving on from (sigh) from the tartan … never thought I’d say that. Can you cite any other issues, Mr Crowley?”
“Well, I mean, he always has his nose in a book. (I own a bookshop, dear.) Shut it, I’m talking, my turn, right?” He looked up at Judge Badcrumble for confirmation.
“He is correct, Mr Fell. Please hold your comments until I ask.” Mr Fell nodded, frowning. “Please continue Mr Crowley.”
“Er, nose in a book, said that one. Uhm ... oh, right! … we don’t go out anymore! We used to go to the park, feed ducks, dinners, desserts, diners, the Ritz.” The audience oooh’d at the mention of the Ritz and Mr Crowley turned to address them, his arms flailing dramatically. “That’s my point! Used to do anything and everything! Now it’s either all reading books or he keeps me in bed til I can’t walk straight, not that I do that anyway but it’d be nice to be able to after he-”
“MR CROWLEY.” Judge Badcrumble had been attempting to redirect his attention to her in increasing volume, but at this she roared at him. His head snapped around to look back at her. “That is quite enough of that. You’ll not be commenting on anything of a physically intimate nature again, is that understood?”
“But, what if it’s an irreconcilable difference?” The redhead practically whined.
“If it truly pertains to your petition, you may write it down and I will read it myself.” She nodded to the bailiff who turned for paper and a pen.
“Nah, probably a bad idea. Don’t really write much. All I do is draw pictures and pretty sure you’d yell at me for that.” Judge Badcrumble’s face crunched in, trying not to see whatever it was that he would have drawn.
The judge took off her glasses, rubbed her eyes and her temples. She’d need a drink after this. “Fine. Duly noted, I .. .appreciate … your er, discretion.” She pretended not to notice that he gave her a wink and finger-guns. She kept her hands over her forehead, rubbing in small circles. “Is there anything else?”
“Yup. How about cutesy nicknames?”
“Crowley you’re being absurd. You know very well that I could do much worse than I do, in so many languages. I simply can’t believe that you’d hold my verbal affection as an undesirable aspect of our relationship. Judge Badcrumble, I do hope that you are starting to see my side of why this is certainly-”
“Not your turn yet, Angel, she didn’t say.” Mr Crowley smirked at the blonde’s scowl.
Judge Badcrumble sighed again, before putting on her glasses and starting to look through the paperwork again. “Mr Crowley is technically correct, Mr Fell. But I’d like to go against the standard for now. Do you have anything you’d like to say?”
“Well, now that you mention it, and of course appreciating that I am now permitted to speak up … No, I can’t really think of anything I’d like to add at this moment.” Mr Fell smiled sweetly at the judge, who had now allowed her head to fall to the bench with an audible thunk as she mentally catalogued her liquor cabinet.
Mr Crowley snickered quietly. “That’s the bastard I know and love.”
Mr Fell looked over with just the most adoring smile Dot had ever seen on a person. “My dear, I do love you so. I didn’t realize that you were feeling so neglected. I suppose I have been driven to distraction with my recent acquisitions. Could I tempt you to supper, my dear? I believe I may be able to find a reservation to fit your fancy for this evening?” Mr Fell held out his hand to Mr Crowley.
Judge Badcrumble was ignoring them at the moment. She picked up her head, rubbing at the red spot where she’d hit the desk, confusedly going thru the small stack of paperwork regarding the case.
Mr Crowley reached out and took Mr Fell’s hand and the gallery of the courtroom verbally swooned over the gesture and the smiles on the two men.
“Right, this is all well and good, congratulations on not getting divorced today. But just as a point of process, you neglected to include your marriage certificate in your petition, Mr Crowley.” Judge Badcrumble looked up, a number of papers in her hands, still searching.
“Oh, I’d be happy to explain that, Judge Badcrumble. We don’t have one.” Mr Fell smiled beatifically at his husband whose smirk could be called sappy in return.
Judge Badcrumble stopped moving, and the gallery held its breath. “You what, now?”
“Yeah, er … don’t have one. Just had a wedding. Why?”
Judge Badcrumble clenched her teeth, forcing the words out better than any ventriloquist Dot had ever seen. “Are you telling me, you came into my courtroom to get divorced despite not being married?!”
The two men looked at each other and then looked back to her, nodding.
“GET OUT OF MY COURTROOM!” The two men, the bailiffs, the gallery, and Dot at home, all jumped, startled at the bellowing and watched as Judge Badcrumble threw all of the papers in the air before storming off the bench to the side door. More yelling could be heard about exactly how little the judge cared about commercials and runtime and her plans to drink herself into oblivion tonight.
The two men shrugged at each other, before walking out of the courtroom. The redhead had slung his arm around his husband’s shoulders and pulled him in to kiss the top of his head. “Where to, Angel?”
“Oh, I believe we may be able to find a table at the Ritz, if that is to your liking, my love?” The shorter man wrapped his arm around his husband’s slim waist.
Mr Crowley made a happy sound and kissed the blonde’s head again as the doors closed behind them.
Dot blinked at her telly and then looked down at the knitting that she’d abandoned ages ago. She jumped as her mobile trilled next to her.
“Hickenbottom? … Oh my goodness, Betty! … I did! Can you believe that?! … I know! Not even married! … D’you think it is On Demand yet? … Well, yes, I can pull the old VCR out of the closet, why? … You WHAT?! … Blessed stars, YES! I’ll put the kettle on. … See you soon!”
Dot put the kettle on and then started putting together a tray of snacks as she began calling some of the other local ladies. “Hello, dear, it’s Dot … I did, and now Betty is coming over … She recorded it and we are going to watch again! … Of course, that’s why I’m calling, bring Billie and Judy, too!”
Thus, a group of older ladies all sat, not knitting at all, enjoying the drama again.
