Don’t go trippin’, part 1

A GRAMMAR GAMES BRIEF

[At the end of the hall, Day 3]

(with apologies to Thomas R. Barton, JD)

Savanna D’Amato was still recovering from a bad acid trip in the room holding the light at the end of the tunnel. There were signs that an orgy had raged on all night — empty wine bottles, broken platters of grape leaves and olives, stained togas, and equally stained sleeping bodies were strewn everywhere. Swirling around in one of her two minds, the rest of the night was a blur, especially the part about the carnivorous urinary meatus and the disappearance of her friend Jennifer Smith.

But in her other mind, she was on the stadium floor, chattering with a gladiator in high heels, Jennifer Brown. Upon closer inspection, however, the chattering was a three way conversation between the two women and the stomach of the lion, which still contained a whole and unharmed Thomas R. Barton, JD.

While the lion contentedly chewed on Jon W’s delicious right leg, a ferocious lioness clobbered his stomach and said:

Jules reminds you of your Cardiac Surgeon’s orders on cutting down on the chatter.

The lion looked up and roared mightily, while his stomach stayed

mute for at least 8 minutes, maybe 12 MaXX. (Nailed the landing!)

But all good things must come to an end, and the end came in the form of a man with a briefcase who was permitted entry onto the arena floor.

He walked forward purposefully, said “I represent the Philadelphia law firm of Shyster, Shyster and Blackstone” and presented the lion with a writ of habeus corpus, demanding the release of Mr. Thomas R. Barton, JD.

The lion looked over the document carefully, paused to think about it, and then ate the second lawyer.

From inside the lion, a muffled voice could be heard calling his assistant on the phone: “Helen, I think I need new representation.”

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