Fiction

The Surreal Adventures of Anthony Zen:
Anthony Goes to Court
by Cameron A. Straughan

Anthony Zen had been driving around the city for a few hours, when he saw the flashing lights in the rear view mirror. He pulled over immediately. He had no idea why he was being stopped — no one ever does. He could only guess at how things might turn out.

"Do you know why I stopped you?" he imagined the police officer saying. They always used that line.

"Because you're a nutty mischief maker — a real leg puller?" Anthony would reply, in a burst of sauciness.

"That's right!" the police officer would howl. "Made you stop, didn't I? You fell for my playful little trick!"

But this was not to be the case. The police officer was tapping at the window. He seemed overly serious, maybe even angry. Perhaps he was having a bad day. Anthony rolled down the window.

"Do you know why I stopped you?" the officer asked.

Anthony refrained from joking.

"Was I speeding?" he replied, wanting to appear honest and helpful.

"No," the officer grunted, as though he wanted Anthony to keep guessing.

"Did I make an incorrect turn?"

"No," the officer shook his head, "that's not it either."

"I went through a stop sign?"

The police officer rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Is a taillight out?"

The officer crossed his arms and began to shake his head. It was obvious that he was rapidly losing his patience. Anthony became frantic.

"Did I run someone over?" he asked, in a state of panic.

"Step out of the car, sir," the officer ordered.

"I'm sorry?" Anthony replied stupidly, having heard the officer clearly.

"Out of the car!" the officer snapped.

Anthony did what he was told. He was terrified. He began to think that this had something to do with the fact he was driving a stolen police car. The officer looked Anthony right in the eye. Anthony was guilty — it was obvious — but the officer wasn't going to let him off easy. He was going to prolong the embarrassment — the agony.

"What's that on top of your car?" the officer asked, pointing to the roof.

Anthony turned slowly and looked up. He returned his gaze to his shoes, unable to face the officer as he spoke.

"It's a gorilla."

"That's what I thought," the officer nodded slowly. "What's it doing up there?"

Anthony glanced up at the officer.

"Eating a banana."

"And how did it get up there?"

"I don't know," Anthony shrugged, "I guess it climbed up there, or maybe it fell from a tree."

"I see," the officer nodded, looking Anthony up and down. More than ever before, Anthony wished he'd remembered to wear his pants.

"I suppose you think it's perfectly legal to go parading through the city streets with a gorilla on the roof of your car," the officer crossed his arms.

"I don't know," Anthony shrugged. "It was never mentioned during driver's training."

"Well, it isn't legal!" the officer snapped. "I'm going to have to take you down to the station."

Seated in the back of the police officer's cruiser, Anthony felt cheated. He didn't know the gorilla. He hadn't offered the gorilla a ride — the gorilla definitely wasn't a member of his car pool — yet he was being held accountable for the gorilla's actions. While Anthony was being rushed to a jail cell, the gorilla was sitting comfortably atop his car, enjoying a banana. The fact that Anthony had stolen the car — a police car, at that — was secondary to the fact that the gorilla had knowingly made a public spectacle of himself at Anthony's expense. If the gorilla had taken the bus, this miscarriage of justice would never have occurred.

It wasn't long before Anthony's day in court arrived. It seemed that justice would prevail after all, although no one really knew what the charge would be — not even the judge. Regardless, the gorilla was the defendant. He had just taken the stand when Anthony was awakened by his lawyer. The gorilla played it cool. He didn't answer any questions. He made no comments whatsoever. He didn't even take the oath; he was too busy scratching himself. At one point, during intense questioning, he made a noise of some sort; but the judge dismissed it as a simple passage of gas and ordered it stricken from the records. The jury was puzzled, but they admired the gorilla's tenacity.

The gorilla seemed so sure of his innocence that the judge let him step down from the stand. Anthony became angry when he learned that the gorilla was probably going to escape all charges. The decision would be based solely on the rule that silence is golden, therefore, the gorilla must be nothing less than a model citizen. Anthony wished to argue that the gorilla's lack of communication was not due to innocence, but as a result of evolution bestowing him with mental capabilities far below those needed to understand complex judicial methodology. However, Anthony decided to forgo that line of attack, because he didn't even understand his own argument, let alone the judicial system.

The judge called for Anthony to step forward. Anthony's lawyer was frantic. He told Anthony that their case against the gorilla was in jeopardy. The gorilla had become a favourite of the jurors; even the judge was fond of him. The only way Anthony could escape being charged himself was to humour the judge and jurors and act like a gorilla.

Anthony had nothing to lose and even less to gain. Playing the role for all it was worth, he raced towards the stand on all fours and leaped up over the railing. The jury was both confused and excited by Anthony's display. Most of them thought he was supposed to be some sort of squirrel. The rest of them were fast asleep. Even the judge was becoming weary. He had to keep banging his gavel just to keep himself awake.

It was obvious that Anthony had to act fast to maintain attention and win his case. He leaped up into a coconut tree, which happened to be right next to the witness stand. Swinging back and forth, he refused to take an oath or answer any questions whatsoever. He would only bare his teeth and shake his head violently, as if his ears were full of tics. The jury still thought he was supposed to be some sort of squirrel, but at least they were all paying attention now.

With a bang of his gavel, the judge brought an abrupt end to the proceedings. Anthony was given the lesser charge of public mischief. Anthony's lawyer patted him on the back; his impersonation of a squirrel had earned him high points with the jurors — just enough to beat the rap. Yet, on the way out of the court house, Anthony became philosophical about his lesser charge.

"Public mischief?" he wondered out loud. "If a mother could charge her son with public mischief, I would've been in the electric chair before the age of five!"