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Visiting the Dallas Courthouse:
No no no, I can see you haven't been to the Dallas Courthouse much so don't interupt. You get there for any reason and in order to park you have to first shove a #2 pencil all the way up your ass. That is step one. Once past the 1977-ish airport scanning equipment which beeps at every single person no matter what, then you go up to the 5th floor looking for room 5301. Of course there is the sign that says everything below 5300 is one way and everything over 5303 is the other way - no one has ever heard of the room you are looking for and by asking someone in the softest, most un-assuming voice since Beaver Cleaver asked if he might have another glass of milk, you are given a look that says "You are a stupid fuck" and then that person walks away rolling her eyes as if she was the prettiest girl at OU and you were a cyclops with the balls to ask her to the Homecoming dance. Finally, you find a room that is the room though it is not numbered. Two people sit quietly at desks as you stand in the doorway. You are too afraid to say anything to them and hope one of them will just look up soon. Finally one of them does and sees you. Then she picks up the phone and makes a personal call. The other one sees you and can tell you carry something in your hand, perhaps paperwork. She doesn't say anything, but extends her hand to you as if offering a thimble of water to your death's door dried out throat, knowing secretly that it won't actually save you, only prolong your slow, slow death, perhaps recharge your now rasping voice long enough for you to let out one more curse at God before you are judged at last. Of course, when you get to Heaven, you have to park and then go to the 5th floor where you realize you didn't make it to Heaven after all... |