The Trial of Mary Sue
The Trial of Mary Sue
Alison Santiago paced back and forth before the defendant. “Miss Nightshade-Darksilver, did you or did you not attend The Bleeding Chokehold concert on August 17th?”
Raven pressed a hand to her forehead dramatically. “Yes, Daddy told me not to go, but he just doesn’t understand! Music is my life; it means so much to me! If I didn’t have music, I would just about die. And I have a singing voice too, everyone says I’m just like a professional singer and dancer, only prettier and - ”
Juror Number Eight gave a loud cough that sounded like, “Modest?”
“Order!” Justice Greyson, presiding over the Mihbeeann Council, slammed the gavel down. “Continue, Miss Santiago.”
The strawberry-blonde woman nodded. “Very well. Miss Nightshade-Darksilver, I’ll make this quick. Did you have sexual intercourse with the lead singer of said band?”
Blushing delicately, the dark-haired girl giggled. Then she glared and began to rant. “Why are you asking me this? It’s invasion of privacy! So what if I did? Stop judging me! I can see it in your eyes! You’re all being sexist, I can’t believe this! Just because I’m a woman…”
“No, this is because said entertainer is over forty years of age. You’re twelve.”
“That doesn’t matter! We’re in love! I’m carrying his child! We’re getting married in December! He cares about me for who I am and not because I’m the most beautiful girl on the planet. I’ve been his biggest fan since his music first came out! I love the way he looks at me! He saved my life, even though he’d never met me, and as inexperienced as I am, I’m hoping him cope with his drug addiction! He is the only one who can satiate the demon inside me!” Apparently Raven didn’t realize that, considering she was talking about someone else, the amount of times she was using ‘I’ was astounding.
At this, even the Judge was beginning to look a little miffed. The defence had made a good point though; the defendant’s character wasn’t really her own fault. It reminded her of several cases which had caused the collapse of the Qweezillian Empire, and Justice Greyson was not planning to let this happen again. With another bang of the ballot, she ordered the author to the stand to discuss Raven’s removal.
“Oh no, how can this be? No one ever loves me! Oh woe!” Raven shrieked. “Damien, save me!”
As if on cue, a tall figure charged in. He had been waiting outside the courtroom just for the opportune moment to come charging in, as he obviously had nothing better to do with his life. “Have no fear,” the hero gallantly roared, reading off a sheet of paper, “insert name here – I mean, Damien Soulhunter, is here! Sorry, I’m still new at this…”
A pack of black wolves came charging in after him, one smashing thorough the glass.
“Order!” bellowed Greyson, the small hammer threatening to splinter under her grip.
“Security, get those animals out of here!”
One of the wolves, black as the night sky, or so he was described, suddenly morphed into human form. Unabashed at his semi-naked state, the werewolf struck a pose. “I’m too shirtless to be an animal!”
“Security, I repeat, get these animals out. Juror Number Ten, that’s your brother you’re drooling over.”
“…sorry, Your Honour.”
Yanking out a cattle prod or six, the guards eventually managed to clear the area of wolves. One of the more excitable younger ones had a little accident, causing a vein to throb dangerously in the Justice’s temple.
“Right,” Alison the lawyer for the prosecution said, “Mr. Soulhunter. What is your relationship with Miss Nightshade-Darksilver?”
Damien cleared his throat and began talking in a deep voice which the authoress had thought was hot when she designed his two dimensions. “Raven is the air I breathe, she is as beautiful as a painting in the Louve…” he rambled, throwing in a few terrible Shakespeare references for luck, bonus points for it being Romeo and Juliet. He coughed, continuing in his French accent, “Erm…here is the part where you all say ‘aww’”
A few humoured him and obliged. Damien continued, “I cannot live without her, she is the light of my dark, dark life!”
“Where are you from, Mr. Soulhunter?” Alison asked.
Damien ran a hand through his hair, now using a Spanish accent. “I’m foreign.”
“Didn’t you have a French accent before?”
“I’m so foreign I don’t even know my own accent!” Damien declared. “Now, release my love and leave us be for all eternity, you foul creature!” He said in a bad imitation of Old English.
“Objection!” Shouted Juror Number Two.
“Silence, plot device!”
“Order!”
“Objection!”
“You can’t object to order!”
“Order!”
A two second silence descended. Then the lawyer cleared her throat. “Tell me about your childhood, Mr. Soulhunter.”
Damien turned his head, hiding dramatically behind his long fringe. “I was born without parents - ”
“Is that even possible?” whispered Juror Number Eleven.
Juror Number Twelve leaned over. “He means he’s an orphan.”
“Oh.”
“ – I never knew my family. I was all alone, a young exiled vampire prince - ”
Juror Number Eleven looked confused again. “How can know if he never met his family?”
“Plot twist.” explained Juror Number Twelve.
“ – Then something horrible happened. Something terrible, traumatic, and absolutely scarring! If it hadn’t been for Raven, I would never have survived! When she was kidnapped for the seven hundredth and fifty eighth time by sexy vampires, I didn’t know what I’d do!” Damien hunched over, looking distraught at the memory.
“What happened?” asked the Alison, looking slightly curious.
Damien took a deep, rasping breath. “My goldfish drowned.”
“Ok,” muttered Juror Number Eleven to Juror Number Twelve, “How on Earth do you explain a drowning fish?”
“Bad writing. That explains everything.”
The Judge didn’t even bother shouting. “We will now be taking a ten minute recess. Both Mr. Soulhunter and Miss Nightshade-Darksilver are to be returned to their holding cells immediately. Separate holding cells. And let me warn you, Mr. Soulhunter, that the power of love is not a legitimate excuse for damage to government property. Dismissed.”
In Judge Greyson’s opinion, those ten minutes could not be going slowly enough. Once again the Jury filed in, looking worse for wear. The creator of the offending characters was now sitting in the defendant’s position, looking peeved beyond belief.
Alison approached her. “You are the author known as…” she paused, unsure of how to pronounce it, “lowercase x, upper case x, lowercase x, semicolon, parenthesis, uppercase x, lowercase x…just look at the paper and confirm it,” she sighed, giving up on the spelling.
“Yup, that’s me!” The girl smiled.
“What qualities would you say you shared with Miss Nightshade-Darksilver?”
“Oh well, um, everything really.”
Alison paced to the unpronounceable username’s other side. “So she is a self-insert, correct.”
“You could say that, I guess…”
“Do you, Miss, have ‘the most beautiful flowing dark hair, and flawless skin’?”
“Well, no…”
“So would you say she is an idealized version of yourself then?”
“I…”
“No further questions, Your Honour.”
The gavel came down. “Take her away.” Justice Greyson said wearily, not even needing the jury’s decision on the matter.
“Wait!” The lawyer for the defence, who had been mysteriously omitted from the discussion despite court proceedings, stood up. “One last thing!”
“What is it?” Greyson sighed.
“How many of you have actually written a story? C’mon, how many?” Jorge Blue stood up, indicating his arms around the courtroom. A few raised their hands. Holding a large clump of papers, he approached the judge. “You have yet to pass sentences on their work.”
She picked up the impressive pile, skimming over the first few paragraphs of each story. “Juror Number Two, you’re guilty,” she said, turning the page. “Guilty.” Next page. “Guilty.”
One by one, ever author in the room was carted out, including one or two of the security guards. “Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!”
The bailiff was still standing; his arm half-fearfully raised into the air. “Alright, that’s all,” the judge said, and the few remaining council members filed out.
“I’m the only author that made the cut?” Bailiff Flizzer said in shock. “I’m the only one?” Then his face split into a grin as he stared up at the judge. “I’m the lone survivor!”
“GUILTY!”
Raven pressed a hand to her forehead dramatically. “Yes, Daddy told me not to go, but he just doesn’t understand! Music is my life; it means so much to me! If I didn’t have music, I would just about die. And I have a singing voice too, everyone says I’m just like a professional singer and dancer, only prettier and - ”
Juror Number Eight gave a loud cough that sounded like, “Modest?”
“Order!” Justice Greyson, presiding over the Mihbeeann Council, slammed the gavel down. “Continue, Miss Santiago.”
The strawberry-blonde woman nodded. “Very well. Miss Nightshade-Darksilver, I’ll make this quick. Did you have sexual intercourse with the lead singer of said band?”
Blushing delicately, the dark-haired girl giggled. Then she glared and began to rant. “Why are you asking me this? It’s invasion of privacy! So what if I did? Stop judging me! I can see it in your eyes! You’re all being sexist, I can’t believe this! Just because I’m a woman…”
“No, this is because said entertainer is over forty years of age. You’re twelve.”
“That doesn’t matter! We’re in love! I’m carrying his child! We’re getting married in December! He cares about me for who I am and not because I’m the most beautiful girl on the planet. I’ve been his biggest fan since his music first came out! I love the way he looks at me! He saved my life, even though he’d never met me, and as inexperienced as I am, I’m hoping him cope with his drug addiction! He is the only one who can satiate the demon inside me!” Apparently Raven didn’t realize that, considering she was talking about someone else, the amount of times she was using ‘I’ was astounding.
At this, even the Judge was beginning to look a little miffed. The defence had made a good point though; the defendant’s character wasn’t really her own fault. It reminded her of several cases which had caused the collapse of the Qweezillian Empire, and Justice Greyson was not planning to let this happen again. With another bang of the ballot, she ordered the author to the stand to discuss Raven’s removal.
“Oh no, how can this be? No one ever loves me! Oh woe!” Raven shrieked. “Damien, save me!”
As if on cue, a tall figure charged in. He had been waiting outside the courtroom just for the opportune moment to come charging in, as he obviously had nothing better to do with his life. “Have no fear,” the hero gallantly roared, reading off a sheet of paper, “insert name here – I mean, Damien Soulhunter, is here! Sorry, I’m still new at this…”
A pack of black wolves came charging in after him, one smashing thorough the glass.
“Order!” bellowed Greyson, the small hammer threatening to splinter under her grip.
“Security, get those animals out of here!”
One of the wolves, black as the night sky, or so he was described, suddenly morphed into human form. Unabashed at his semi-naked state, the werewolf struck a pose. “I’m too shirtless to be an animal!”
“Security, I repeat, get these animals out. Juror Number Ten, that’s your brother you’re drooling over.”
“…sorry, Your Honour.”
Yanking out a cattle prod or six, the guards eventually managed to clear the area of wolves. One of the more excitable younger ones had a little accident, causing a vein to throb dangerously in the Justice’s temple.
“Right,” Alison the lawyer for the prosecution said, “Mr. Soulhunter. What is your relationship with Miss Nightshade-Darksilver?”
Damien cleared his throat and began talking in a deep voice which the authoress had thought was hot when she designed his two dimensions. “Raven is the air I breathe, she is as beautiful as a painting in the Louve…” he rambled, throwing in a few terrible Shakespeare references for luck, bonus points for it being Romeo and Juliet. He coughed, continuing in his French accent, “Erm…here is the part where you all say ‘aww’”
A few humoured him and obliged. Damien continued, “I cannot live without her, she is the light of my dark, dark life!”
“Where are you from, Mr. Soulhunter?” Alison asked.
Damien ran a hand through his hair, now using a Spanish accent. “I’m foreign.”
“Didn’t you have a French accent before?”
“I’m so foreign I don’t even know my own accent!” Damien declared. “Now, release my love and leave us be for all eternity, you foul creature!” He said in a bad imitation of Old English.
“Objection!” Shouted Juror Number Two.
“Silence, plot device!”
“Order!”
“Objection!”
“You can’t object to order!”
“Order!”
A two second silence descended. Then the lawyer cleared her throat. “Tell me about your childhood, Mr. Soulhunter.”
Damien turned his head, hiding dramatically behind his long fringe. “I was born without parents - ”
“Is that even possible?” whispered Juror Number Eleven.
Juror Number Twelve leaned over. “He means he’s an orphan.”
“Oh.”
“ – I never knew my family. I was all alone, a young exiled vampire prince - ”
Juror Number Eleven looked confused again. “How can know if he never met his family?”
“Plot twist.” explained Juror Number Twelve.
“ – Then something horrible happened. Something terrible, traumatic, and absolutely scarring! If it hadn’t been for Raven, I would never have survived! When she was kidnapped for the seven hundredth and fifty eighth time by sexy vampires, I didn’t know what I’d do!” Damien hunched over, looking distraught at the memory.
“What happened?” asked the Alison, looking slightly curious.
Damien took a deep, rasping breath. “My goldfish drowned.”
“Ok,” muttered Juror Number Eleven to Juror Number Twelve, “How on Earth do you explain a drowning fish?”
“Bad writing. That explains everything.”
The Judge didn’t even bother shouting. “We will now be taking a ten minute recess. Both Mr. Soulhunter and Miss Nightshade-Darksilver are to be returned to their holding cells immediately. Separate holding cells. And let me warn you, Mr. Soulhunter, that the power of love is not a legitimate excuse for damage to government property. Dismissed.”
In Judge Greyson’s opinion, those ten minutes could not be going slowly enough. Once again the Jury filed in, looking worse for wear. The creator of the offending characters was now sitting in the defendant’s position, looking peeved beyond belief.
Alison approached her. “You are the author known as…” she paused, unsure of how to pronounce it, “lowercase x, upper case x, lowercase x, semicolon, parenthesis, uppercase x, lowercase x…just look at the paper and confirm it,” she sighed, giving up on the spelling.
“Yup, that’s me!” The girl smiled.
“What qualities would you say you shared with Miss Nightshade-Darksilver?”
“Oh well, um, everything really.”
Alison paced to the unpronounceable username’s other side. “So she is a self-insert, correct.”
“You could say that, I guess…”
“Do you, Miss, have ‘the most beautiful flowing dark hair, and flawless skin’?”
“Well, no…”
“So would you say she is an idealized version of yourself then?”
“I…”
“No further questions, Your Honour.”
The gavel came down. “Take her away.” Justice Greyson said wearily, not even needing the jury’s decision on the matter.
“Wait!” The lawyer for the defence, who had been mysteriously omitted from the discussion despite court proceedings, stood up. “One last thing!”
“What is it?” Greyson sighed.
“How many of you have actually written a story? C’mon, how many?” Jorge Blue stood up, indicating his arms around the courtroom. A few raised their hands. Holding a large clump of papers, he approached the judge. “You have yet to pass sentences on their work.”
She picked up the impressive pile, skimming over the first few paragraphs of each story. “Juror Number Two, you’re guilty,” she said, turning the page. “Guilty.” Next page. “Guilty.”
One by one, ever author in the room was carted out, including one or two of the security guards. “Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!”
The bailiff was still standing; his arm half-fearfully raised into the air. “Alright, that’s all,” the judge said, and the few remaining council members filed out.
“I’m the only author that made the cut?” Bailiff Flizzer said in shock. “I’m the only one?” Then his face split into a grin as he stared up at the judge. “I’m the lone survivor!”
“GUILTY!”