"Here-ye, Here-ye, this honorable court is now in session. The Honorable Judge Judith presiding."

The judge swept past the bailiff, black robe swishing, "You may sit."

Good thing, because my shaky knees chose that moment to give in, and I collapsed into my chair.

The judge looked through papers and frowned, "So this is a suit by the attorney firm of Tort, Overbill and Sueim against a Norman Cowie, for... slander and libel?" She gave me a stern look.

A pitiful squeak slipped out of me. I clamped my hand over my mouth.

The plaintiff's attorney leaped up, "Yes, Judge, if it pleases the Court. The defendant has been writing articles that slander and libel our great profession."

My attorney shot out of his chair, "We object. Plaintiff's attorney should have said, "The defendant has 'allegedly' been writing said articles... No evidence has been submitted yet."

"Good point," the judge allowed. "Let's swear the defendant in." Moments later I was on the stand.

The Plaintiff's attorney stalked forward like a panther in hunt, "First, we have an affidavit from Mr. Cowie's wife disclaiming any liability for anything stupid that Mr. Cowie may have said, since he's a guy and these kind of things happen all the time. She also brought up points of homestead exemption and that based on an attorney's recommendation she plans of putting their house into Tenancy in the Entirety so that we can't attach it."

"Noted," the judge said.

The attorney continued, handing her a piece of paper, "Attached marked as Plaintiff Exhibit # 1 is an article by Mr. Cowie where..."

"Objection!" my attorney shouted. "There is no proof Mr. Cowie wrote this article."

"Did you write this article?" the Judge asked me.

I looked at it, and nodded mutely.

"You must state your answer, so that the Court Reporter may record it," she said gently.

"Yes, I wrote it, " I mumbled.

"Please read the statement out loud that I have marked," the Plaintiff's attorney said.

"Um, er," I stammered, "uh, that part?" I pointed, feeling sweat starting to run down my side.

"Yes," he sneered, snidely.

"Uh, okay, um," and I started reading, "Attorneys haven't endorsed what I write. In fact, most of them object to what I write, because I like to call them names, like 'poo-poo' head."

"Poo-poo head'!" the plaintiff attorney repeated. "Did you hear that? He called us 'poo-poo heads.' He turned back to me, "Please count the number of times that this article refers to attorneys as 'poo-poo heads.'

"Um, eight times," I admitted, "But I took back one of them in the next article."

Judge Judith then interjected, "Counsel, are you telling me that this whole suit has to do with Defendant calling attorneys, as a whole, but not individually, 'poo-poo heads'?

My attorney whipped his head around, "you called us 'poo-poo heads'?" he demanded.

"Uh, not my attorneys, just opposing attorneys," I said weakly.

"Well, okay then," he said, mollified.

"Not just 'poo-poo heads'" the plaintiff's attorney intoned. He whipped out a pen and pointed at Plaintiff's Exhibit # 1, "now read that word, Mr. Cowie." A smirk slid onto his face as he waited.

"Weasel"

"See," he said triumphantly, "he called my client a weasel."

"No I didn't," I said.

"Yes you did."

"No I didn't. I called a hypothetical contractor's attorney a weasel," I shot back. "I've never met your client!"

"Objection," he shouted.

"Sustained," the judge allowed.

"Plus weasels are honorable animals," I yelled, ignoring the gavel. "They are clever, wily carnivores, who live by their wits. It was a compliment. They should be admired. You ever see a weasel road-kill?"

"Uh, no, can't say that I have," the attorney said, nonplussed.

"That's because they're smart! You see dead raccoons, deer, opossum and rabbit all the time. But never a weasel!"

"Good point," the judge allowed.

"And what is all this 'practicing' stuff!" I yelled, momentum on my side. "How come attorneys practice law? When is practice over and the real game on, huh?!?"

"Objection!"

The gavel kept pounding.

"And you just wait," I shouted. "Wait til the Press gets here and learns that you're suing me for calling attorneys 'poo-poo heads.' How's that going to play? Can you imagine the new attorney jokes?"

Bang, bang!!

"And what's that on your head?" I yelled at Plaintiff's attorney.

"Huh?"

"That white stuff."

He put his hand on his head. "Eeeuuu!!!"

"See, you are a poo-poo head!"

"It was the pigeons. They were flocked outside the Daly Center," he stammered, snatching up Kleenix brand tissue.

My attorney whispered at me, "Why are you taking on the attorney profession? Don't you realize that there are more attorneys in the Bar then there are soldiers enlisted in the Army? And that this judge is an attorney? And your congressman? Senator? Most Presidents? You're outnumbered, son. Not to mention me, who has to save your bacon?"

Just then I woke to a loud noise.

Suddenly I wasn't at the Defendant's table anymore. I was sitting on a bench in the spectator's section.

The bailiff opened the back door, "Here-ye! Here-ye! This honorable court is now in session."

Whew!