Unidentified Funny Objects 7, page 9
"I-I-I want to sell flying c-carpets. I think I'm a g-g-good repair tech. I know everything about weaves and materials, which give the best performance for weight, speed, or distance, Persian vs. Armenian patterns, flight-time per incantation and quality of sacrifice and everything. If I c-c-could t-talk better I'd be a g-g-good sales man and m-m-make a decent living."
I believed him. Carpets were obviously his passion. His stutter vanished when he described them.
"You know my rates?" I asked.
He nodded. "I w-was hoping to t-t-trade. I-I-I'm a really good t-technician. I can make your carpet like new." He swirled his hands around his waist as if conjuring a carpet to rise.
I wanted to help him. He was so earnest. He'd be an honest salesman, even if he wasn't a good one. A few more honest souls would be bad for my business, but good for the world.
Even so, I shook my head. "I use a ride service. No need to own a carpet when you live in the city."
His face fell and his fingers clutched his cap.
"B-b-but, I d-don't think any other firm c-c-can handle this." A tear slipped from the corner of his eye. With most clients, I'd assume the tears were fake, but this guy was too sincere and transparent to even consider that.
"OK, we'll work something out. Let me see what I can do."
"Th-th-thank you so much. I'll d-do anything I can. I d-don't just know carpets, I can fix m-most appliances. C-coffee makers, c-copiers . . ."
He glanced at my desk. "Your m-mouse pad is frayed. L-let me repair it."
I picked up the pad. The mouse squeaked in protest.
"It's been a bit erratic. I meant to replace it, but if you can perk this fellow up, I'll call it a retainer and assign an intern to your case. Maybe we can get you better terms."
He nodded and grasped the pad with both hands, nearly dropping his hat in the process. He peered into the mouse's eyes and whispered encouraging words as I escorted him to the door.
Once he left, I rearranged the rune stones and continued carving out my defense.
I'd just finished carving the runes and my opening statement was rock solid when my door’s letter slot burst open. My pad swished through with the mouse clutching the fringe for dear life. The pad had more zip than when it was brand new.
The pad paused in front of me, expectantly. The mouse stood on its hind legs and sang.
The pad was frayed,
The weave displayed
A drop of tea
That I could see
Obscured the spell
That worked so well
When it was new
And flew so true.
* * *
Please use a coaster for your tea.
Your pad will function perfectly.
But if it needs a little service.
I'm glad to help. So don't be nervous,
Just call for me, please use my card.
Signed, Melvin Schmook, with best regards.
The mouse proffered me a card. It was the Jack of Spades, a solid workman's card. This counted as a retainer. I had a client.
I tapped the mouse and spoke slowly. "Memo. From: Glyph. To: Schmook. Subject: Will accept your case. Message: Please return to my office for consultation. Close. Deliver."
The mouse glared at me. "He's still in your lobby. How fast do you want him?"
"Give me five minutes."
"Got it."
The mouse tumbled as the pad flipped over and clattered out the letter slot.
I tapped my "Interns" deck and the Queen of Hearts rose into the air. That would be Desiree, my newest intern. I tapped the card to summon her.
She appeared in a flash of coruscating light. She was a succubus, the top in her class. She sported thigh-high, black, stiletto-heeled boots, a back, silk-and-chrome corset, and the requisite whip. Like I said, she was a top. She might be young, but she really had her way with clients.
Melvin crept through the door before I had a chance to brief her.
His eyes bugged when he saw Desiree. Her lips pouted as she assessed him with half-lidded bedroom eyes and a raised eyebrow.
Melvin twisted his fingers and acted even more nervous than he'd been before.
"Umm, y-you s-sent for m-me?" His voice quavered.
I nodded to Desiree, "This is my intern. She'll be handling your case."
His eyes got wider. "I-I-I-I'll b-b-be w-w-working w-w-with her?"
"You'll love working with me." Desiree's deep red eyes smouldered as she purred, "Men beg to work with me. Just tell me what you want."
The nebbish explained his situation, with even more stutters than before, as Desiree probed for details. I trusted her to extract everything he knew, so I sent them to a conference chamber and returned to the runes.
An hour later, Desiree sashayed into my office.
"How do you like your new client?" I asked her.
"He's so mouthwateringly naive. I'm glad you assigned him to me. I'm sure I can get him out of this."
"Don't get too involved. Remember, he's my client. He didn't summon you—he hired me."
"No worries. He may be sweet, but he's such a wimp. Schmook wouldn't know what to do with a succubus if he did summon one."
"Brings out your maternal instincts, does he?"
She glared at me. "Watch your lip, or I'll show you what I know about harassment suits. I've got lots of instincts, but none of them are maternal."
"Just joking." I raised my hands to ward her off. "But, seriously, he's your first client, and it's easy to get in over your head. Work up his case and come back to me when you're ready."
She shrugged a seductive sway that reached from her ears to her heels, then winked as she blinked back to the intern cubicle. A succubus can't help flirting.
I went back to checking my runes for cracks or fissures. If my defense had any flaw, the opposing troll would break it faster than it broke the contract under contention.
A week later, my orb blinked deep red to announce that Desiree was ready.
"How's Schmook's case coming?" I asked her. She was dressed less dominatrix than usual in a black silk pantsuit that might have been sprayed on.
"Coming easy," she smirked. "Melvin and I meet for an hour or so each day. I have him eating out of my hand."
She held out her hand, palm up, fingers slightly curved. Almost, but not quite, an invitation.
"Don't kiss him," I reminded her. "He's a client, not a supplicant."
She pouted, a full-lipped moue that begged for attention. "I understand contract law. No soul-sucking kiss without quid pro quo. But he's so cute and sincere." She hoisted her spike-heeled pump onto my desk. "I let him polish my shoes. I didn't suggest it. He offered on his own. I think he likes me."
The nebbish did a superb job. The shoe reflected my face and the reflection was better than reality. It would be a real shame if he reverted to a toddler.
"So, what's your strategy?" I asked, carefully lifting her foot off my desk. Those spikes can gouge a desktop.
She circled her hands around her waist and thrust one hip toward me. "Oh, we've got them," she growled, her voice deep and throaty. "Got them by their shortest hairs."
"Speak to me. How do you intend to handle the case?"
"'Just force.'" she recited, as if she were back in school. "'Just force' is the basis of contract law. A human can't just force a demon to grant a wish, and a demon can't just force a human to surrender his soul. There must be a fair exchange. Forcing the nebbish to sacrifice twenty years of his life for a trivial speech improvement is an inordinate recompense."
"Very good. You passed Contracts 101. Now to the practical. How would you plead this case?"
"We request a jury trial. Humans will fall over themselves to help a nebbish."
I nodded. A jury trial for a nebbish is a given. Nobody can resist those hangdog eyes.
"How about the rest of the jury?"
Desiree snapped her fingers and a transcription of the contract blazed in the air between us.
"Look at this wording." She underscored a set of flaming words with her blood-red fingernail. "It shows plainly that there was no intent to cure the stutter, just to revert the nebbish to pre-speech babyhood. The demon intended to suck Melvin dry, first with the twenty years, then returning him to adulthood for another fee. It would own his entire soul within three deals. A greedy amateur."
I nodded. "Intent to defraud is a given in these contracts, but you're right. That level of transparency gives demons a bad name. We should be able to sway a mixed jury. All the humans will side with the nebbish, and at least some demons will vote against a fiend that offers such a careless contract."
I gestured, and the words fell to the floor in a shower of sparkles. "I want you to prepare the case and assemble the jury. Make sure you get religious humans. They're always eager to break a demonic contract. Let me know when we're on the docket. You should sit in on the trial in case I need some background."
An hour later she undulated into my office with a court date and a cup of coffee.
"Good work on the court date, but you know I drink tea."
"You haven't tasted the coffee since Melvin fixed the refluxer." She grinned. "I just mentioned how it upset my stomach, and he fixed it right then."
I took a careful swallow. It smelled great, as coffee generally does, and tasted better, as coffee generally doesn't.
"Mmm, we definitely have to save him from regression. Anyone who can fix that nightmare should stay around. Set up a meeting for tomorrow, early."
At sunrise, the carpet driver pulled up outside my fourth floor office window.
"Here you go, boss," he called as I popped my private entrance open. "You don't need to be careful of the edge any more. That guy Dee-Dee sent me did a bang-up job of mending the loose threads."
"Dee-Dee?" I asked him.
"Yeah, that succubus intern of yours. I didn't know her name, but the mechanic called her Dee-Dee when he told me who sent him."
Desiree popped in a few minutes before Melvin. She wore a lacy, soft-gray shift with a baby-pink bow cinching her slender waist.
I raised an eyebrow.
"Black makes him nervous," she explained.
When Melvin arrived I described how the hearing would go. Dress and deportment are important in jury cases, so I made sure he understood what to wear and how to behave.
"Y-Y-Yes, sir," he assured me. "Dee-dee-desiree has been c-coaching me."
Now I understood how Desiree had become Dee-dee.
He smiled at her and continued. "She's been teaching me how to dress, what to say, and how to say it."
Did he notice that he didn't stutter when he focused on her? This would be an issue if we needed to demonstrate how poorly the demon had performed its part of the contract.
Two weeks later, we were in court. As the legally licensed practitioner, I presented the case, even though Desiree prepared it. I trusted everything would go as planned, and Melvin would be pleased with the outcome.
I materialized into the courtroom at precisely midnight, the standard hour for contract disputes. Desiree was already in our pentacle, dressed for business. Her double-breasted jacket swelled as she inhaled and her tight pencil skirt was slit clear up to there. Her legal briefs were fully prepared.
I sat next to her and glanced at the paperwork.
"Beelzebub!" I gasped. "The contract was cosigned by a Prince of Hades? You didn't mention that!"
"Does it matter?" She flinched under my glare. "He's not the principle—"
"No, but he'll be the defender."
The door to the judge's chamber creaked open as a tower of black flame and smoke erupted from the defendant's pentacle. Beelzebub made his dramatic entrance just in time for the judge to see him arrive.
Beelzebub was an easy eight feet tall and nearly as wide, with more teeth than a mouth that huge should hold. I barely noticed the defendant at his side.
The defendant was easy to overlook. Droopy ears, hangdog face, round shoulders and big, beagle-brown eyes. I expected Buni, the three-headed dragon demon. This defendant was a demonic nebbish. Even humans would feel sorry for this loser.
I frowned at Desiree. "A nebbish! A bigger nebbish than our client? The jury will kill us!"
She wrung her hands. "I didn't know . . . he told me he called for Buni."
The court officer, a heavily bearded dwarf, stood on his chair and called. "All rise for Judge Galadrond, presiding over Schmook vs. Bubba Bunny."
I shook my head. Names are important in a summoning. Melvin tried to summon Buni, but his stutter betrayed him.
"We may not be lost yet," I muttered to Desiree as I studied the jury. The demons were the usual assortment of fiends. They sported lots of teeth and a fair number of batwings. With a carefully worded approach, they might support us against a demon who was careless with its contracts. Then I counted the number of fangs. Beelzebub must have stuffed the jury with hand-picked minions.
The case would hinge on the humans. I had to keep them on our side.
I studied them closely and my jaw dropped. "You said you vetted the jurors!"
"I did. They're all religious. They even wear crosses!"
"Upside-down crosses! Don't they teach anything in Practicals these days?"
We stood as the judge entered. She was an ancient elf, known for disliking humans and demons equally. I couldn't appeal to her humanity, but Beelzebub had no advantage, either.
"Court is in session," the dwarf bellowed. The judge flicked a finger at the gavel and it pounded three times. She glanced at me and then Beelzebub. "I do hope neither of you intends to extend this session with your theatrics. I have better things to attend to."
She faced me. "Your opening statement."
"Your Honor," I began. Her eyes were already glazing. No staging this plea. I cut straight to the facts. "We will show that our opponent delivered a contract in poor faith."
"Objection!" Beelzebub roared.
"On what grounds?" the judge demanded.
"Sacred grounds. My client was summoned to a church burial ground, and was thus constrained to bargain in good faith."
I paused. Sacred grounds? That was a curve ball I didn't expect.
"A moment, Your Honor, for a brief consultation."
I glowered at Desiree. "A verbal contract on holy grounds? How could you miss that little fact?"
Melvin shuddered. "It-it's not her fault. I n-n-never mentioned it. D-d-does it matter?"
I stared at him. "You summoned a demon to a church yard—where humans hold the advantage—told it what you wanted and didn't bargain on the terms?"
He nodded. "I n-never bargain. P-p-people tell me what they want, and I d-do it."
"This will be tough. We can't use our original plans. I'll wing it, and if we're lucky, I'll get your contract reduced to five years. I can't promise more."
"I-I know you'll do your b-best." he whispered. "I-I'll try to help."
I faced the bench. "Your Honor, while the contract was negotiated in good faith, we will show that it was inappropriately weighted and request that the terms be altered to be fairer to all parties involved."
The judge rotated her head as Beelzebub raised himself to full height.
"The human was not approached," he boomed. "He summoned my client with malice aforethought and cunning artifice. We will show how the incantation used was designed to summon this poor, inexperienced demon who did his best to assist the summoner, despite his lack of skill."
He motioned to his client who slouched forward clutching its tail in front of its protruding belly.
"I-I-I t-tried t-t-to help him," he whined. "I t-t-took on his affliction as m-my own."
I did not put my head in my hands. I wanted to; I wanted to cry right there in our pentacle. The stutter was fake. I knew it, but I'd never prove it. And once Melvin spoke, the jurors would hate him for ridiculing the poor demon.
Beelzebub sneered at me. He would win this case. The punitive damages for representing a frivolous suit might cost me my own soul.
I motioned to Melvin and Desiree. We started with two approaches, but this suit didn't fit our pair of plans. I had to sew it up quickly or the judge would overrule the jury just to spite me. I only saw one way to avoid an infinity of hellfire for all of us.
"We need a sacrifice to win this case. A virgin sacrifice. It's the only option left."
Desiree frowned. "I should take the fall. I'm the one who messed up the case. The second circle of Hell isn't a horrible place for me to end up. But I'm not eligible for a virgin sacrifice."
"That's not what I had in mind," I replied. She'd understand her sacrifice soon enough.
Melvin stared at me. "S-s-sacrifice?"
"A life." I explained. "It's the only way to break a contract like this."
"I c-can't ask D-d-desiree to do that." He stared at the floor and twisted his fingers into a knot. "I'm qua-qualified for a virgin sacrifice." He admitted, before looking up into Desiree's eyes. "I'd rather die than see you sent to Hell."
"That's perfect. I can work this. Kiss him," I told Desiree, "Not a peck on the cheek—a full, unconstrained, succubus-style kiss."
"Succubus-style?" she echoed. "But that will—"
"Absolutely. It's how we'll win this case."
They kissed. She melted into his arms as if she belonged there, while he held her as if she were precious and delicate.
The judge cleared her throat and glared at the clock above our heads. It slowly chimed the quarter hour. One chime per second, seven mystical chimes. I counted them as Desiree and Melvin held their kiss for the full seven seconds.
Melvin put his soul into that kiss. Succubus kisses are like that. I won't say Desiree put her soul into the kiss; she didn't have one. But she accepted the contract that in taking his soul she was committed to pleasing Melvin for the rest of his natural life.
The judge pounded her gavel. "We've already wasted too much time on this trivial matter. We're skipping proofs and evidence. Give me your closing statements and make them short."
I straightened my robe. "Your Honor, I present the final issue with this demonic contract. Forcing my client to give twenty years of his early life to my opponent's client deprives other contract holders of their rights. As you see, my client and associate have sacrificed their lives to each other. The law of most gain requires the larger contract to supersede the lesser. We stipulate that my client provided a down payment in good faith and he then received partial performance in exchange for that down payment. Rather than demand full performance, our client will consider the contract fulfilled and let the opponent retain the down payment, despite its inept performance."
