“Did you have a good shit?” I asked Dan as I met him back in the courthouse halls.

“You know, as I was squeezing out a turd, I was thinking…” he began to say.

“No, I’ve been thinking,” I interrupted, “call court back in session.”

“It’ll be back in session in one minute.”

“Good. Have Shapiro call me back on the stand.”

“I can’t call the defense’s witnesses for them!”

I chuckled. “Dan, Dan, Dan,” I nodded, “you’re overthinking this. Why don’t you shut your brain off for a moment and let me direct this show.”

“James, this is a court proceeding. Not a movie. I can’t just…”

“Just get me back on the stand for fuck’s sake,” I laughed.

I waltzed back into the courtroom with Dan tentatively following. I buttoned up my jacket, smiled to Shapiro, and took my seat. The Judge banged her gavel. “Court is back in session,” she declared. Dan took center stage.

“I call James Pietermeister to the stand,” he stated.

I stood up, hands in pocket, and whistled a tune as I approached the stand. “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God?” the bailiff asked.

“What the fuck is this? Groundhog Day?” I joked.

No one laughed.

I sat down in the witness seat. Dan didn’t approach the stand and everyone was puzzled. “Are you going to question your client?” the Judge asked him.

“Actually, Your Honor,” I said, “I don’t think the defense was finished with their questioning.”

The Judge looked to Shapiro. “Very well, Your Honor,” he groaned. And the small, piddly attorney approached the bench. “What more is there to say?” Shapiro asked me. “You have no case!”

I put my finger up to my chin. “What more is there to say indeed,” I wondered aloud. “Mr. Shapiro, did you approach Ms. Casandra McHale with several millions of dollars to rewrite Chatty Cathy?”

He started to readjust his tie. “I believe protocol states that only legal counsel can…”

“Did you have a few drinks with Ms. McHale that night?” I hammered on.

A thin veil of sweat began to appear on his forehead. “Uhhh, Your Honor, I believe the witness is in contempt…”

“Answer the question Ben-Jamin!” the Judge ordered.

“Well, as Mr. Greco’s attorney, it is sometimes my responsibility to…” he began to stutter.

“Mr. Shapiro, while you were inebriated with Ms. McHale,” I continued, “did your penis somehow come out of your pants?”

“Uhm,” he cleared his throat, “I was merely explaining to Ms. McHale the tattoo I got while on tour in Vietnam. I got my testicle blown off you see. I was on tour promoting my book when I met this prostitute…”

“How big would you say your penis is?” I ask. The Judge was intently focused.

“Well, on a good day, I would say 5.4 inches fully erect but…”

“Your Honor,” I declared, “according to Ms. McHale, Mr. Shapiro’s penis is no more than four inches fully hard. I declare the defense unreliable and I therefore no longer own Mr. Greco $56 billion.”

The judge again banged her gavel. “Agreed! Mr. Pietermeister is no longer liable for a breach of contract as the contract was not made in good faith.”

Shapiro and Jimmy were stunned into silence. “Your Honor, please!” the lawyer begged. But she threw on her robes and departed the court without saying a word.

I laughed heartily. “Sorry, Ben-Jamin,” I said to him as I patted him on the shoulder, “maybe you’re just not cut out for this line of work.”

I could see him fuming. “You made a joke of me for the last time,” he told me. Then he pulled out his Glock, the same Glock he showed the court earlier, and began waving it around. “The Los Angeles Superior Court is a farce!” he screamed.

“Ben-Jamin, calm down buddy. The whole world already knows you have a little ass penis. No need to wave your gun around lol,” I said.

Then he pointed it at me. “Fuck you Pietermeister!”

I closed my eyes in preparation for death. Gun shots rang out but I felt nothing penetrate my body. I opened my eyes and saw Shapiro lying dead on the ground with three gunshots to his chest.

I saw Dan pointing his Colt single action six-shooter and smiling. “Now that’s what I call justice…,” he said. Then twirled his gun and put it back in its holster. “…Texas style.”

TO BE CONTINUED…