(a judge sits contemplating evil in his chambers, checking his list of bribes, blackmail, murder, mayhem — with surprising mirth!)
WICKED JUDGE:
(going through book of protection money) Well let’s see, let’s see . . . the police are caught up with their, um, dues, so no pork chops this week. Who’s next? Ah the Church of the Very Deep Pockets. A week behind payment, hmmm? Oh Lucy? (silence) LUCY!
LUCY:
(off-stage) Yes, your Honor! (receptionist in antechamber)
WICKED JUDGE:
Get me that contemptible Pastor Parson on the line…
LUCY:
(off-stage) Yes, your Honor!
WICKED JUDGE:
And so we can close the Great Book of Protection. Now who owes me a few favors? I haven’t had any favors granted to me in oh so long.
LUCY:
(off-stage, bored out of her skull) Your Honor, you have a certain fan on Line 2.
WICKED JUDGE:
Ah. Is it the Pastor?
LUCY:
(off-stage) Haven’t been able to track down the good pastor, yet. No. Well, um, uh . . . this is the . . . widow . . . you remember? The Widow Job.
WICKED JUDGE:
What, AGAIN? Didn’t I put her off already this morning?
LUCY:
(off-stage, completely bored) Three times, your Honor.
WICKED JUDGE:
What is it with this woman? Bahhh! She must be on perpetual drugs. Hmmm. I know. Oh Lucy!
LUCY:
(off-stage) Yes, your Honor?
WICKED JUDGE:
Tell her you’re going to transfer her right in, and then hang up on her (laughs) . . . and then if you get another call from her — check the Caller ID — answer as the “Denver Dumb Friends League!” (laughs) And they say judges are stuffy! Oh ho! Don’t I love a good joke as much as the next guy!
LUCY:
(off-stage) Yes, your Honor.
WICKED JUDGE:
(practices golf swing) Let’s see, how about a campaign for cleaning up gambling in the city? That should be good. Beneficial. Oh, how I HATE messy gambling! Clean out them ashtrays! Daily dry-cleaning for all Blackjack Dealers! Keep gambling NEAT, is what I say! Neat and clean, neat and clean.
LUCY:
(off-stage) Pastor Parson on Line 1…
WICKED JUDGE:
Ahhh . . . my personal pet, the peevish pastor! (picks up Line 1) Yes, Pastor Parson. Let me get to the point. That special offering you were going to take up — what was it for — UUOLOS — Ugly Unlovable Orphans that Live on the Street. Yes. Well. My swimming pool contractor is asking for money, and I don’t seem to have any of your money in my pocket to pay him… (listens) Hmmm, well, you know, Pastor, this IS the dry part of the year — lots of fires in the city, and the fire department is VERY busy. (listens) Yes, I thought you’d see the light!
WIDOW JOB:
(hurrying in) Your Honor! I need to speak with you, for just a moment!
WICKED JUDGE:
(covering phone) What! How did you get in here! Lucy! LUCY! Get this woman out of here!
WIDOW JOB:
I think she’s in the restroom. But I just need to talk to you for a moment. Please, sir. It’s about my son. I talked to you about it yesterday. Could you please talk to me for a moment, Sir?
WICKED JUDGE:
Oh get out of here! (uncovers phone) NOT YOU, PASTOR! I expect to get a check from you tomorrow morning! GOOD BYE! (slams down phone, whirls on widow) And as for you, you better clear out or maybe you’ll be spending some time in jail!
WIDOW JOB:
Please Sir, no one else can help me. My son has been in prison for 6 months and he’s innocent!
WICKED JUDGE:
Oh, EVERYONE in prison is INNOCENT!
WIDOW JOB:
But my son IS innocent! I was there. He was helping that woman — those two men were punching her, one was hitting her with a stick! My son went to help her, but he didn’t know those two men were policemen!
WICKED JUDGE:
Oh, so he was interfering with justice, was he!
WIDOW JOB:
And then his court-appointed attorney never showed up on his court date! And you threw my son into prison! And he’s a single father of two little children, and I’m trying to take care of them, but I don’t have enough money, and those kids are starving! Please let my son out of prison, PLEASE!
WICKED JUDGE:
(sarcastically mimes playing an invisible violin) Oh, EVERYONE has a sob story! Your son is an ignoramus, and all such yokels DESERVE to rot in jail. It means nothing to me. Only, I can’t STAND seeing you everyday! Why do you keep coming here and barging in here like this! You call and call and call and those terrible, insipid letters you write! I’m starting to DREAM about those letters at night! The paper goes on and on and on, and all those misspelled words, the typos, that terrible red ink you use! What a nightmare!
WIDOW JOB:
Please Sir. You are a man of incredible power.
WICKED JUDGE:
(flattered, squaring shoulders, standing up straighter) Oh. Do you think so?
WIDOW JOB:
I came to the most powerful man in the city. Only you can save me! Only you can save my son! It’s all I can think about. So I write you, and call you, and visit you! I just lost my job today, so I can spend more time down here at the courtroom —
WICKED JUDGE:
(whirling on her) NO! I’ll see to it that you get your job back. Please, no more time down here at the court.
WIDOW JOB:
But my son, my SON!
WICKED JUDGE:
(puts hands over ears, shaking head, eyes closed) Oh, you tire me out! Just the thought of you tires me out! (opens eyes) Get out of here, you miserable woman. (in mincing voice) Oh my son my son my son my son my son...
WIDOW JOB:
I AM miserable. Please. Help me.
WICKED JUDGE:
Shut up! Get out!
WIDOW JOB:
(kneels before him) Please, your Honor. Save my son.
WICKED JUDGE:
(makes a face, turns his back on her, walks away) You make me sick. (pauses) How long has your miserable creature of a son been in prison?
WIDOW JOB:
Six months!
WICKED JUDGE:
(considering, staring out window) Well, I suppose the creep must have learned his lesson. See Lucy on the way out, give her all your information. Against my better judgment, your son can go…
WIDOW JOB:
(rushes to him, embraces him) Oh, THANK YOU, your Honor! Thank you!
WICKED JUDGE:
(horrified) Don’t touch me! Just clear out, and I never want to see your face AGAIN!
WIDOW JOB:
(hurrying out before he changes his mind) Yes, Thank You your Honor! Thank you!
WICKED JUDGE:
And don’t call anymore! And no more of those horrible, horrible nightmare letters! (to himself he says:) And now maybe I can start getting some sleep without having nightmares about those letters… Ahh, but what an injustice. Oh well, a few will slip through my fingers now and then…
LUCY:
(off-stage) Your Honor, your granddaughter is here — it’s your day to take her to McDonalds…
WICKED JUDGE:
Ahh, my sweetie! Send her right in!
GRANDDAUGHTER:
(skips in) Hi Grandpop! (rushes to him and hugs him)
WICKED JUDGE:
(delighted, transformed into a sweetly sweet old gentleman) Ahhh, there’s my sweet little girl. And how’s your little pony? (they begin to exit)
GRANDDAUGHTER:
Oh Grandpop! That was the bestest present you ever gave me in the world! I love my pony! After McDonalds, can we go to the toy store again?
WICKED JUDGE:
Hmmmm. Have you been a good girl?
GRANDDAUGHTER:
Yeah! Yeah!
WICKED JUDGE:
Well, I guess we could stop by Toys R Us on the way back…
GRANDDAUGHTER:
You’re the nicest man in the whole, whole, whole world!
WICKED JUDGE:
(exaggeratedly sighing) Well, yes, I suppose so...
(exit)
__________________________________________
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