Beaten to a pulp by his ex-girlfriend in the polls, Harold decided to go to the Soup-rim court. I was enjoined in the suit as a respondent, with my electoral commission accused of rigging in the wrong candidate.
Monday morning, Harold woke me up early in the morning so I could help him draft the petition, which would be used against Sue and myself. Fearing for my lunch, I assembled a team of two legal experts, led by yours truly and with Paul as a partner.
At midday, Sue called me and requested that I sit with her to help her prepare her defence. Paul and I, sensing her case was going to go well and she would pay us handsomely, sneaked out of the brown house and to the shopping centre where we met her.
Using Harold’s submissions, we drafted a set of defensive statements that Sue would use to counter everything Harold said. If Harold said “My lords and lordesses, this election was stolen,” Sue would retort, “And where were you not to steal?”
Before we had left the premises, we asked what was in store for us and when she suggested that my uncle Harold, who is Paul’s father, would be getting free alcohol from Sue’s den if she won the case, we knew who was going to win it outright.
That same night, Paul and I immediately decided, the Judiciary was going to draft its final judgment which we were to deliver as soon as we could. But we were going to wait for the opposing parties to battle it out in court.
I was torn between sending the complainants to the Magic Straight Courts, where very little magic happens in way of finding solutions to suits, or asking them to go to the Hi Court and Court of Uphill first.
Harold went around donating peas to people he thought did not vote for him and while we claimed it was voter bribery, he stuck to the theory that he was spreading peace.
This was the same strategy he had earlier used with Sue, taking her money and giving it to people, then claiming that she was ensuring people had “her money”, which she mistook for harmony.
He spent a week behind bars for this crime.
When they came to file their cases, a metal fell out of Harold’s briefcase and clanged on the floor and we asked him what that was.
“It is a file that I will use for my case,” he answered, adding that the case was going to be brief.
You see, everyone else in the village can blame Harold for his actions and claim that he is insane, but I know that when we used to refer to him using the title “Your Highness”, he took it literally and got himself high.
The cases have been filed. Paul and I will be representing ourselves as part of the tallying process.