...
I was at the top floor of a big city building for the deposition of my psychopath sister. It was a combination conference room and lunch room. Big tables that sat about twelve people at a time, and lawyers conducted their business there and prisoners ate their lunch there, and some sort of hotel business was being conducted there, somehow, too.
There was a veranda around it, and a doorway into the back of the prison kitchen at a corner of it that rested half on the building and half on a rock, which would have to have been damn steep and tall coming up from the ground because this was like the thirtieth or fiftieth floor.
Met a scrawny little prisoner out there who was bewildered and needing some direction, some courage, but one of the kitchen guys came out and yelled at us to get out of there, so I brought him inside, where people were finally assembled to take the harridan's deposition. I sat the prisoner off somewhere else and took my place at the table, where some questions were being put to her, and she was making speech noises from between her pursed lips... sort of a combination of raspy-whiney and cackling witch incantation.
There was no there there and so we adjourned to start over in a few minutes... I'd thought so her lawyer could counsel her that she needed to actually answer the questions instead of merely make sounds in response to them.
Another prisoner, a blonde mop head, was tugging on the hair of the court reporter, so I picked him up by his mop head and hauled him weightlessly to that asshole at the kitchen door to have him scrub pots or something, get this little animal out of general population. I'd had to wade through about fifty cops taking their lunch on the veranda to do this.
Was trying to get in a cigarette before we took another lunge at the deposition and hotel employees were making me have to go outside to do it, and I was finding myself on the wrong floor to make it back in a timely fashion, but I made it back and everyone was set for Take Two, but my sister's lawyer seemed to be missing, and our conference room was now full of prisoners half there to get lunch and the other half in theater seating to await something like life, like freedom... to observe.
More milling around with the people on the veranda, business people, prisoners, cops, hotel staff, giving pointers when asked, and then headed back indoors for the deposition I was just sure would be now ready to begin again, but on my way from veranda back to the table I overheard my sister's barked orders to someone on their cell phone to get rid of the scrawny prisoner, putting a hit on him.
I grabbed the phone and screamed for her not to lay even one of her poison slime fingers on him, and then made my way back to the deposition table through a crowd that was now really straining fire marshal's capacity for sure. People, lawyers, busybodies, reporter, sister were still sitting there, but opposing counsel was still missing.
Out for more air and nicotine, still feeling as though I am the hold up, I hear one of the busybodies saying the AWOL lawyer is finally back and now is when we're settling this case instead of continuing with the deposition. What?
I go back to the table and he is there, and his excuse is that he had some shopping to take care of, but he's back now and wants to move for costs, and I'm saying you can't make a motion like that at a deposition, as some hairdo at the table with fantastically comical false plastic teeth, dazzlingly white and clownishly outsized and cartoonishly formed — fascinating me as to how she even fit them in her mouth and still function in society — was pontificating right over me on some completely irrelevant point.
Then everybody at the table is getting up to go home because it's almost 5pm, business hours are over. No progress made whatsoever.
pipe up any time....
