by Jonathan McNulty
Grow Up to Bring Your Work Home With You!!!!
This week:
Become a (1950’s Southern Racist Sexist Bad Person) Judge
Marital Romance
You: Looks like someone needs to serve some hard labor.
Your Wife: Well, we all get summoned for jury duty sometime.
You: I am going to enforce this penal code to its full measure.
Your Wife: I have no objections at this time, your honor.
You: All rise!
Your Wife: Oh, George!
You: Gerk! I’ve reached a verdict!
Your Wife: I want to appeal! This is a mistrial!
You: (sigh) Sustained.
Your Wife: I’m going to drag out this case until I get the outcome I want.
You: The court will now break for a short recess and resume in 5 minutes.
(You light a Kent Filter cigarette. Really clears out your t-section.)
Childrearing
You: You’re out of order!
Your Rebellious Son: Sit on it, Dad, I’m gonna race my coup and neck some foxes at the Point while I tune in to some rock and roll!
You: I gave you this life sentence but I can easily commute it so you’re out of here in eighteen!!
Your Rebellious Son: You’ll never understand me, Square!
You: That’s because you’re a closet case just like your mother!…I mean…Gavel Gavel Gavel!!
Sexual Harassment
You: Go on, say it.
Your Beleaguered Secretary: (Sigh) You’re as big as twelve men.
You: (Feigned surprise) Oh, really you think so?
Your Beleaguered Secretary: Yes. You’re hung like a jury.
You: NO! It’s you’re like a hung jury.
Your Beleaguered Secretary: I really think mine makes more sense, grammatically.
You: I know, but hung jury is an expression.
Your Beleaguered Secretary: Fine. You’re like a hung jury.
(Pause)
You: And?
Your Beleaguered Secretary: …and it’s so white.
You: Well, it is the South!!! Ha Ha! (Pause)…Well don’t just stand there, you didn’t get hired for being able to type 35 words a minute. The only words you need to get now are “I’m done” and who knows how many minutes that’ll be.
You: I’m done.
Your Beleaguered Secretary: Really?
You: YES REALLY! WHAT IS IT WITH ALL YOU BULL DYKES ON MY CASE TODAY! Hey…on my case! I didn’t even mean that one.
Divorce
Your Wife: At least let me see the kids.
You: Nope.
Your Wife: You still owe me alimony.
You: I’m a Judge. I know all the other Judges in this state. Good luck, woman.
Prison
Your Cellmate: Remember when you sentenced me here, Your Honor?
You: Uh…yes.
Your Cellmate: Welcome to hard time.
You: I don’t suppose this counts as badgering the OW! Marcus!