The Trial Of Harry Homeless, Esq.

Late for my court date

They kept me as they arrested me: buck naked. I sat in the courtroom as the only person who could feel the wood chair directly on his ass. I felt sure I was an historic first in that category. I end up pioneering too many categories, I fear.

They thought they were humiliating me, teaching me a lesson for running around naked at the high school cheerleader awards ceremony. But that assumed a respect for them I did not - and could not - have. That's what scared me most: that they took themselves so seriously, acting all grave and ominous and shit. Well, they were serious alright - but it wasn't about truth, justice and the American way.

Well, maybe it was about the American way.

This wasn't the first time my fellow man had had enough of me and my publicly bleeding behavior as I streaked across the stage in baby-making hope. All that hot nooky in one place! Like self-deceived parents of their own cleverness the policia decided to call my bluff on public nudity and forbid me clothing. But feeling that wood against my skin was quite sensual, if anything.

But what could I feel that wasn't against the law?

I could feel the hatred directed on me like a hot desert wind. I remembered a scene from an Al Capone film where Capone just goes nuts, turning over a table, yelling and screaming, "I want him dead! I want him dead!" That's what I was here today to feel.

I want that punk Harry dead!

My hands were cuffed behind my back so I couldn't do anything further to break the law by illegally touching myself. I think if I had they would have drawn their own guns and shot me, seeing that as a life or death situation. But if you took away the danger I'd just as soon popped a boner for all to see. What would they do if they found that out?

I scanned the courtroom for any signs of life. Jesus, nothing but deadwood here! All these frowning faces indicating lives long since over, but dropping their suffocating masks before one as justly revealed as I. My nude life provided them with a rare opportunity for living, for no one feared to be judged by me. My social standing was less than zero and this like all court cases was about who on the outside was going to love them for their rulings. So for once, no one bothered to hide his or her feelings.

Ah, but there's a live one! In the back corner of the jury box. You mean I get to show her my dick? Yeehaw! I wonder why she has life? Is it because she knows how to swim and not drown, or is she in the act of drowning but not dead yet? The odds were too much to hope for the former. All I knew was I wanted to stand up and hope she looked. Oh yes, especially with those intelligent eyes! (But after her seeing me like this what hope did I have of ever being her friend?)

Dear God, how did I get stuck here?

But this nightmare was real and the harm palpable as it hopelessly surrounded me. I describe these as "Omaha Beach" moments, where I'm forced to forge only ahead and fight for my life regardless of incoming fire. There is no retreat, no safe haven. I would get in these places by backsliding in my life, not facing up to the hurling fireballs of fortune. But one has to face the fire one way or the other and sometimes I forget that.

The judge lectured me in verbal orgasm. "We're sick of your behavior! Sick of it! We're not going to tolerate it one minute more! You think you're the only one who wants to hump high school cheerleaders? You think I don't secretly fantasize about my daughter's friends? I want those nubile nymphs with their lively bodies more than life itself!" Then I saw the judge bump up in his seat as if someone had goosed him on the rear.

I looked over to the jury. They were in firm agreement, mentally applauding the lecturer, having failed on their teenage sex fantasies too. I was a broken man to be judged by a room of broken lives. But Bright Eyes did not applaud. Was there hope for me?

The prosecutor presented his case. "Your great honor who knows all and is wise in the eyes of every man." Hey now! I think he's an idiot. "I present before you here today pictures of 17 hot body females whom the defendant has used for illegal masturbation in the eyes of God. Somebody nail that bastard before it's too late!"

Dear God in heaven, please be legal!

I wanted to give up and just die under the overwhelming fire. I thought of my compatriots on D-Day and I imagined they felt the same way. But they fought onwards and upwards. I figured I should do the same. Rising above the dread, I forced a look at the photos. "Hey! I've never seen these photos before in my life!"

"Of course you haven't, you idiot!" desperately screeched the prosecutor. "These are the ones I use and I'm not going to let you get away with it!" I thought I had a victory in this but the maniac paraded around with such moral conviction the deadwood jury couldn't help but be impressed. Only Bright Eyes did not share in his holy hypocrisy - but that didn't necessarily mean she was on my side either.

That's when the burly bailiff saw his chance for self-redemption, walking over to me in a deliberate fashion of menace, bending down to whisper in my ear. "I've got two daughters in high school who hate me. But I'm going to fuck you up bad, boy, and prove I'm a good father." He backed away slowly, smiling at me like a potential sex partner and I was surprised he had all his teeth.

What was really unnerving was I saw that same look on the faces of several men of the jury - and they really had no teeth. Didn't anyone have children who like them? Didn't any of them own a freaking toothbrush? Were there any frivolous thoughts on Omaha Beach? Dare I have them myself when I can share them with no one? Maybe Bright Eyes would listen and laugh. Yes...I can see it...she shares my contempt for them.

My deliverers of justice

The judge was still angry at his lack of teenage sex. "I cannot have you running around revealing my shortcomings. I'm a man of high social standing. I own two Mercedes, a splendid beach house, take wonderful vacations of the elite and have my own reserved parking spot. When I walk into a restaurant, they call me "Your honor" and give me the best table in the house. And by God if you think I'm going to give that up you got another think coming!"

I wondered if he was going to break out into the Judas Priest song. Just great, I got a heavy metal judge who dare not listen to his own music. I knew these people were vicious, mindless savages wholly unaware of themselves and their lives, scrapping along for survival understanding only the approval they did or did not receive. That made them as dangerous as the Nazis with their embedded machine guns mowing down soldiers in the killing field of the infamous Normandy beach.

But the jury was giving the judge a standing ovation, hooting and hollering as he fought for the Nazi-American blackmail way. Apparently I was a threat to everyone's lifestyle. More Al Capones wanting me dead. Bright Eyes stayed seated, brushing away with a dismissive hand the urgings for her to stand and join in my fun-fun firing squad. Damn, I need someone like her in my life.

Lick my guitar

It was said that before the metal door on the landing crafts opened onto Omaha Beach, the soldiers could already hear it riddled with gunfire. Who were the unlucky ones who stood at the front as the latch opened into the withering fire? Should I die as they did? I don't think I could have stood there. I'd of made my way to the back. If I die now would that make up for my cowardice? My guilt says 'yes'.

But with the faintest of voice I said, 'no' - knowing it to be the truth. I trudge forward even with seeing no future. The prosecutor - a man entombed in a self-indulgency to be envied - had some damn fine taste as I poured over his "evidence" before me. I could then see what he really wanted: for me to judge him and absolve him of his own crimes (the "real" judge obviously of no use). He was a yuppie lawyer with his entire existence of acquisition planned out - and that was the pornography of his life. Dude, I can no more help you than you could help me.

Letting go of everything, clearing my mind, I thought about what I wanted most: those thonged babes in picture #4. I want to live, dammit! And even though I cannot explain the order of the universe, I can observe it so it surprised me not when I heard the fateful words of the judge at the worst possible time: "Will the defendant please rise?" Uh, I already had.

Proof there is a God...somewhere

It's hard to describe the scene of chaos as I stood up defiant in my desires. I had failed to join them in guilty repression and that unleashed the unholy dogs of war. Carefully calculating women of the jury shrieked in dire consequence. "Help! Save us from his penis! Our lives are ruined! This is worse than Janet Jackson's nipple!" Every man in the jury who had Googled the nipple swore to protect the failing females, leaping out of the jury box to assault me.

The judge also came at me, his gavel raised high in adamant anger, tripping over his respected robe to take my life for the fatherland. The prosecutor saw his whole life dissolving before him, slinging his briefcase at me and grabbing a chair to throw next. But it was the hated bailiff father who got to me first, anxious to prove his hate meant love so his life - and fatherhood - could have meaning. All I really remember now is: I got the boner but it was the courtroom that exploded.

CODA: Everyone's pissed I didn't join the foolishly mandated death march of a misguided world. I'm out of jail now but I have to admit my sense of humor took a real beating and I'm walking wounded. Like any sick and twisted parent, the authorities want me to live my life for them. Die fuckers, die!

It was strange afterwards listening to the jurors converse among themselves, speaking the ordinary language I hear every day. Words of uncaring spouses and unruly children, angry at the decline of civilization, lamenting the political pain inflicted upon their lives - and never seeing themselves as having had any hand in it. Seemed not a one of them realized that just a few short hours ago they had been dancing upon my grave with glee.

I know they hoped my condemnation meant their salvation but truth is it means their own condemnation. And when that day of reckoning comes, they will be shown only as much mercy as shown me. If they were to know that, I wonder how they would react next time? Probably the same...

CODA II: I ran into Bright Eyes at Whole Foods. I nearly had a heart attack as I was instantly transported back to Omaha Beach. Would she announce my failings over the store speakers? I decided once again forging ahead was my only solution. And it worked!

We had a fine and funny conversation though I was dying inside and knew I couldn't keep up. In her I saw the real world, one of understanding and forgiveness. I bowed my head before this magnificent woman, giddy with delight knowing I had brought a smile to her lips. For a few stolen moments I was in heaven.

But what was she going to do? Introduce me to her friends and family? I couldn't imagine it. I was imposing on her and my only possible gift to absent myself from her life. I slipped away from her while she was in mid sentence and I'll never forget that look of hurt and confusion on her face. Maybe that explains why pain and confusion rule my life now.

Back where I began, I scan the paper for more cheerleader announcements, allegedly glad Bright Eyes cannot see me. Seems I got judged by a foolish judge after all: me.