From: da...@wubios.wustl.edu (David J Camp)
Subject: Court Judge, by Rap Dictum
Date: 1995/04/10
Message-ID: <3mbl2j$mu5@wubios.wustl.edu>
X-Deja-AN: 100132995
distribution: world
organization: Division of Biostatistics, WUMS, St. Louis, MO
newsgroups: rec.humor


                                Court Judge
                                a tradgedy
                                by Rap Dictum

The Forum met at the Pantheon to form the University of the Favorabliss.
They deliberated at length in a mutual discussion in the party room.
The debate heated, blistered, and broke the sky.
God pointed down and yelled: 'surrender to the Devil, thee sinners'!
Confusion reigned, so they petitioned the Auditor of the Datum,
'Profess to our aid, oh King'!!!

The Auditor of the Datum, annoyed that he was disturbed from his
logic treaties, complained: 'Zing! Zap! Zowy! call me anything but King'!
'I shall be thy Fountain he proclaimed', and took three Aspirin,
adam two every morning, preparing for the Theatre.

The heads of State and Government appeared, Bank Fundy, and
Grandma Dictionery rushed in to see what judge was holding court.
'What has Satan wrought', they cried!  'Call the Devil yourself',
the Auditor of the Datum replied.

Den appeared, and declared immediately: 'Push! Pop! Media! Agenda!
These are thy keys into the book of the living.  Now dare to
Won Rub and Nil Pat.  Tell the children not, Do Magic, Know Not.'
The Devil then vanished in a sparkle, but did not hide.

Grandma Dictionery then brought a case before the Court Judge,
The State 'Rampart of Berlin' charges before this Forum:
'Bank Fundy brings Stupidity to the Government.  He has in his
compartment a machine, the 'Parthenon' that rules Funding and
Currency with no regard to the Computer Science of the god Apollo'!

Doctor, the Auditor of the Datum ordered, record this case in
thy Docket.  The Doctor recorded the States claims verbatim,
but then began to update them voraciously in the Docket Ethic.

Bank Fundy dared, serve to me a proper Summons, lest I appear
before Court Judge!  Bank Fundy then dreamed of another table.

The Forum scattered, seeking victims of the Government corruption.
Gals all over the Papal State succumed to rape of their illness.
The orgy lasted for many haltation.  The Sex grew in Eroticism
and Eroticisity and Eros.  Guys became erect but not spurtive.
Gals behaved as victims, not participants.  Finally the
dissatisfaction grew to a head.

The haltative affect was depressing.

One by one the orgists were drawn away by temptation of different
character.  Many cases were on the Docket before the Court for
the sentencing of Medicos.

Professional offices sprang up, all over the Papal State.  They
were Capitalized by Finance, not from the Government.  Among these
were Mash Socrates, Hawkeye Mohican, Terry Fuller, and Ivan Sletten.

Mash Socrates' office was decorated in Art Deco.  All the furniture
was updated in glass and metal.  Nicknacks and Pattywacks abounded
from the table before his chair.  Doctorial certificates lined the
walls, and many acts of Comedy adorned the bookshelves.

He called to the Secretary, 'I will see the next orater now:'
Mary Moll interviewed the orator, 'Are you prepared for the
Doctor now?'  He retorted, 'I need to beat the Whiskey Rebellion!'
Mary Moll toughened, 'He is not a drunkered, dare him only of Medicine!'

'I am called Beetle Juice, the Orator exclaimed, I can Hire you at
great expense!'  

Mash Socrates inquired, 'Do you have a problem
with bad Whiskey, or militarizing against the Rebellion?'

Beetle Juice screamed, 'I cannot Orate with the Henchmen of the
State, my Whiskey is sterile of bad humour!'

The Doctor prescribed several potions thus:
'Trouble the Henchmen not, merely orate the qualities of your Whiskey.
Place more Poison in thy drink from the spring of the Sodomites Gemini.
Go forth to thy compartment after these are done, and trouble not
as a Publican.  Be known now as Beetle Juice, but as a Purveyor
of Putrid Seduction.'

Hawkeye Mohican was pondering the Muse in his office.  There was no
furniture but three low Ottomans.  His being the highest, known for
its imposition on the Orators, placed him as the Thinker, not knowing
that his Secretary was approaching.

'Evening Mood to see you Sir.  She plays as if already cured.  I know
that her disposition is thin.  She knows not that her way is to grow.'

Hawkeye Mohican growled at the imposition, 'Stay there by the Keyed
Egress child, while I ponder thy needs:  I know the oration has
severed thy TaePai Connection.  What have they left of thy Origin?'

'My Papa is left of his business, but only goes to his Store to
practice Commerce.  How can I draw him back from the Clutches of
the Bookeepers?'

'Go home and seek thy Papa's Affection.  He is needing of Business,
not Bookeeping.  Ask my Secretary for more Currency for thy Rue.'
Upon Egress, the Secretary was eager to Help.  I know the Publican
Arthur Rap is Dreamy of your favors.  Beg for HerGuy and offer HisGal.
Allow him Insanity now, merely use thy Wiles to Sac him.

Across the Papistry, the Offices of Terry Fuller brimmed with Savants
Oddities of Dill Glamour.  The Girl sitting at the Door heartily
enjoined the new Orator.  We were expecting you Sir.  Enscribe
your Demographics in triplicate on these Papyrus Scrolls.
Itty Bitty Baby Bobby, as he is still known, happily replied,
thinking he was part of a study, not pursued for Funding.
Being the Scholar of Scribinery, the Papyrus flew rapidly beneath
the Quill.

Doctor Terry Fuller gladhappied from the inner door.  Thanks for
the Demographics, Bobby!  Walk this way into the Den.  Bobby
skulked along behind Fuller, insane at the notion that he was
following a better.

Bobby Pushed his problem, 'Every time I Concentrate on my Learning,
I get Zapped from the Neighborhood.  What can you do for me Doctor?'

Doctor Fuller stroked his chin in manner of the Physicist Pilger.
The diagnosis was obvious, but a particular course of action was not
obvious.  'Where do you go to Concentrate, child?' Doctor Fuller
demanded.  

'I ponder my Academy Class daily at the Train Depot
where the Bookeepers see that I am Fed.'

The Doctor Terry Fuller, was certain of his approach.  'The problem
is now with your classes, you ought to give more attention to the
Nuts Zapping your Concentration.'  You seem to be excellent material
for the Medical Courses.  Ask the Bookeepers to help you take Courses
at the College of Philosophy.'

As Juliet Chamise approached the high office of the Sletten Estate
of Ivan, she knew now whether Clan pressed her to the Office, or
the Doctor Pulled her to Procession.  The Front Door seemed
translucent, but she passed the entrance with some effort.
No Lift appeared for her ease, but some wandering found a Staircase.
The climb tolled of Troubled Insanities.  Forward she climbed, but
the Officer Pulled her easily past the toppled Staircase.

Through the door he dragged her, hastily past the doorway into
a Dreamy Chamber leaving her stunless.  Tell much of your travels
Wayfarer, your voice is needed for my Analysis.

Juliet Chamise knew readily that she was lacking depth.  'Thy way
is untidy, not as neat as you Imagine.  Draw further thy Charm.'

The Office of Sletten was beat.  He knew he had only a Cheap Retort.
'No Chamise every Wit of the House of Sletten.  I, Ivan am a Priest
of thy Chamber Coor.'

The Lady Juliet chattels rumbled with indignance, but nothing remained
of Intellect.  The bliss seemed at hand, but the Chamise Nationality
was broken too.  Holiness left her, and she only Dared the Doctor with
tears.

'Haly thy Oratory, m'Lady.  Listen to my implore.' cared Sletten.
Juliet woke and Wondered in the Face of Ivan...
'Prepare to study under my Tutilage.  I Rape you now until the final Agenda.'