I was in court charged with littering when the bailiff said, “All rise,” and I’m thinking, rise; who the “F” does he think I am Superman? I know how to stand but rise; where was I supposed to learn to do that, magic school?
I stayed seated, but as soon as the assembled rose alongside an open window, the wind carried them away. All thirty crashed into an adjacent building.
Ten died.
Nineteen were hospitalized, a homeless woman, did okay. She fell near where she lives.
I heard the judge made new rules.
She now allows people to remain seated.
Michael Drezin’s short stories and micro-fiction have been published internationally on the net and in print. Comments invited at NYCTstories@gmail.com
