Here's an old one that I'd forgotten about, but I found it tucked behind some sacks of books in BIAD's shed.
Books he promised he'd read one day. Well, we'll see.
Ninurta Takes The Witness Stand.
Ninurta reached for the stunted cigar in his breast pocket and then stilled his hand as he remembered where he was.
A courtroom jury wouldn't be impressed by cigar smoke drifting from the witness box.
"You know, you could have at least worn a tie" God said pleasantly as he watched the trees sway in the breeze outside.
The large plate-glass windows of the corridor outside Court Room One offered a serene tableau where nature could
quietly exist within an urban setting. An aspiration the white-haired man in the Walker Slater suit could appreciate.
However, God's composure was a little frayed at the edges when he also realised that such an ambitious design would
be lost on the other person in the auspicious passageway. Panglossian imagination had long fled from Ninurta.
"A tie would have given a look of civility" the Omnipotent One murmured softly and the tall lean man dressed in the wide
-rimmed hat and the low-slung revolver tied to his leg guessed that God was musing to himself more than giving advice
to his grizzled companion leaning on the corridor's wooden panelling.
"So why am 'ah here...?" Ninurta said to the back of the senescent fellow that had suddenly appeared in his motel room
that very morning. The gunman had been staying off the radar for some time after the adventures of yore and now,
the tired traveller had just wanted a bit of peace and quiet to contemplate those strange events of another age.
"...I mean, 'ah would've thought I'd be the last guy yer'd want sittin' in a courtroom" he added and rasped his long fingers
across his unshaven chin.
............................
The conversation that had played out in the small impersonal motel room earlier had been less-than a cordial affair -to say the least.
When God had suddenly emerged from the shadows near the curtained window, the long black barrel of the revolver aimed directly
at his face was not something a creator of everything was accustomed to.
Still, it was this world that had made the prone man on the bed behave the way he did and so, God let this initial rude introduction slide.
"Hello Ninurta" the calm voice said and began busying himself making the coffee.
............................
A young woman in a knee-length charcoal skirt and a poor choice of blouse, stepped out of the courtroom and set off down the corridor
towards the Records Office. Jenna Marbles had been a lawyer for eight years now and even though the company that she was currently
with had offered her some pretty-good cases, this latest one involving some whack-job in the red dress had forced her to once more
ponder the recent offer from Chicago's Piers & Grand.
The parking was better, at the least.
God pulled the Patek pocket-watch from his waistcoat and breathed a deep sigh as he frowned at the passing time. He had things to do
and waiting around for trivial formalities was not something he really enjoyed. "I need you to vouch for someone" he stated flatly and with
a flick of the wrist, the golden timepiece looped in the air and snapping the accompanying chain tight, it dropped from view back into the
Lord's pocket.
............................
"...Yer've got the wrong fella..." Ninurta hissed and slowly sliding from the bed, God was surprised to see that he was fully-clothed
A more cynical individual may have considered that the gunman didn't trust anyone. "...'Ah'm just keepin' my business mine" he said
easily and kept the murderous weapon trained on the intruder.
The Holy-Of-Holies pondered on how to open the tiny pot of UHT milk and thought better of it.
Black coffee was this man's regular drink he mused and turning slowly, he offered the steaming brew to the only guest of the run-down
establishment. "Your breakfast?" God chirped.
............................
Ninurta pushed himself from his relaxed position and stepped over to the bright vista of shimmering alders and cool lush grass
on the other side of the window. The Gunman's narrowed eyes soaked in the information without any of the anapestic ruminations
of this writer and after checking for any unnatural shadows, partly aimed his thought-process back to the situation in hand.
"It's that crazy Boy In A Dress, isn't it...?" the slow drawl came, "...he's in trouble again, ain't he?" and moving his cool-blue eyes
slightly, Ninurta watched God's reflection in the glass for confirmation.
............................
The desert sun tore into the musty room of Tucumcari's end-of-the-main-street's roadhouse as God pulled back the curtains and
soaked in the morning's rays. "Oh, that's good" he whispered to himself and smiled. Somewhere rain was quenching the thirst of
morning bluebells beside a babbling brook, but here, warmed-wood ticked and the air above metal shimmered.
Ninurta watched from the chair across the room as he sipped his java without any emotion, much like he did with anything these days.
"So, yer break into a man's room, say yer' the Divine Creator and want my view on today's society...? Is that about it?" the low-toned
gunman growled and struck a kitchen match on the small table beside him.
The one where his pistol lay close by.
God kept the smile on his deeply-lined face and glanced at his new disciple. "That's it in a nutshell, my son" he said happily.
Ninurta offered his non-revealing gaze at the invader and said nothing. "This world is changing so fast and some of the practices of
the past, the conduct and self-restraint, are being eroded away" the smiling Godhead said.
"...It's time somebody reminded the good-folk of this planet of their responsibilities" he added.
Ninurta crushed the stub of his cigar into the foil ashtray on the tiny table, shrugged. and holstered the dreadful firearm that was more
than just a gun. "Like 'ah said, yer've got the wrong fella" he growled and then instantly reached for his faithful sidearm.
Something had changed.
As written somewhere before, they were no longer in Kansas.
............................
The Absolute Being folded his arms and shook his head, the shoulder-length hair emulated the movement of the silver leaves of
the thin trees outside the courthouse as he thought on what to say next. If it hadn't been for this current quandary, it would be
doubtful that he and the man who'd badly battered Death during a fracas in Tombstone, would have ever met.
It wasn't that God didn't like Ninurta, his compass was fair and his philosophy of self held a rare quality that had faded in recent years.
But it was his Gunman's passage through life that caused the Creator to frown, Ninurta's unflagging ability to destroy anything that
even brushed those single-minded tenets of his.
To make matters worse, the grizzled man under the desert-weathered hat had befriended someone even more out-of-place than
the person who presently stood beside him. In another time, God would've applauded such a rare commodity for such a man like
Ninurta.
The Guardian of Continuation sighed to himself as pondered this other being waiting in the assizes behind them.
Boy In A Dress wasn't one of his. The eyeless freak in the short dress and toting the weird hair had not been on his list of original
design and even though the bare-thighed creature had seemed to pass through this reality on a fairly peaceful path, God had been
giving serious consideration to halting his existence and getting this world back on-track.
That was before Ninurta had connected with the constantly-grinning singularity.
............................
"Welcome to New York..." God announced and held his arms in the air "...the city that never sleeps!" A low-crouching Ninurta spun a
full circle and kept the barrel of his ancient firearm in front of him throughout the function. The riverside walkway was empty except
for him and the strange old man who needed a haircut.
In the early-morning mist, the gunman recognised the Brooklyn Bridge towering above them and he checked and rechecked his
surroundings, his first thoughts were that he'd somehow been dragged back into the past. The days of the other-worlds.
"Fella, 'ah don't know what you've done, but you've better have a good reason..." Ninurta began and then faltered as the stranger
stood beside him and placed a finger to the lips of the man that had once travelled through time as well as space.
"Listen to me and they will listen to you" God whispered.
............................
After a young man passed by with an armful of files and left his cologne lingering in the corridor, the old white-haired gent and the
gunslinger looked at each other across the serious surroundings. "This case is about the person you said, but I feel that your views
and opinions need to be aired in a situation more... more ubiquitous" God said and suddenly turned towards the Courtroom door.
"We're up" he supplemented and brushed the lapels of his tweed livery.
The trail-dusty man that stepped up beside him thought about the All Powerful deity's earlier dialogue and with a pull on the brim of
his hat, he let the words drift away. He was what he was and that was the way it should be, he thought.
The Usher opened the large oak door and gestured for the pair to enter and the confused gaze of the young bailiff wasn't lost on the
gunman with the giant pistol on his hip. Confidently striding into the hallowed room in scuffed cowboy boots, Ninurta's footfalls were
loud on the varnished floor.
"See...? you should have worn a tie" God whispered from the side of his mouth.
Books he promised he'd read one day. Well, we'll see.
Ninurta Takes The Witness Stand.
Ninurta reached for the stunted cigar in his breast pocket and then stilled his hand as he remembered where he was.
A courtroom jury wouldn't be impressed by cigar smoke drifting from the witness box.
"You know, you could have at least worn a tie" God said pleasantly as he watched the trees sway in the breeze outside.
The large plate-glass windows of the corridor outside Court Room One offered a serene tableau where nature could
quietly exist within an urban setting. An aspiration the white-haired man in the Walker Slater suit could appreciate.
However, God's composure was a little frayed at the edges when he also realised that such an ambitious design would
be lost on the other person in the auspicious passageway. Panglossian imagination had long fled from Ninurta.
"A tie would have given a look of civility" the Omnipotent One murmured softly and the tall lean man dressed in the wide
-rimmed hat and the low-slung revolver tied to his leg guessed that God was musing to himself more than giving advice
to his grizzled companion leaning on the corridor's wooden panelling.
"So why am 'ah here...?" Ninurta said to the back of the senescent fellow that had suddenly appeared in his motel room
that very morning. The gunman had been staying off the radar for some time after the adventures of yore and now,
the tired traveller had just wanted a bit of peace and quiet to contemplate those strange events of another age.
"...I mean, 'ah would've thought I'd be the last guy yer'd want sittin' in a courtroom" he added and rasped his long fingers
across his unshaven chin.
............................
The conversation that had played out in the small impersonal motel room earlier had been less-than a cordial affair -to say the least.
When God had suddenly emerged from the shadows near the curtained window, the long black barrel of the revolver aimed directly
at his face was not something a creator of everything was accustomed to.
Still, it was this world that had made the prone man on the bed behave the way he did and so, God let this initial rude introduction slide.
"Hello Ninurta" the calm voice said and began busying himself making the coffee.
............................
A young woman in a knee-length charcoal skirt and a poor choice of blouse, stepped out of the courtroom and set off down the corridor
towards the Records Office. Jenna Marbles had been a lawyer for eight years now and even though the company that she was currently
with had offered her some pretty-good cases, this latest one involving some whack-job in the red dress had forced her to once more
ponder the recent offer from Chicago's Piers & Grand.
The parking was better, at the least.
God pulled the Patek pocket-watch from his waistcoat and breathed a deep sigh as he frowned at the passing time. He had things to do
and waiting around for trivial formalities was not something he really enjoyed. "I need you to vouch for someone" he stated flatly and with
a flick of the wrist, the golden timepiece looped in the air and snapping the accompanying chain tight, it dropped from view back into the
Lord's pocket.
............................
"...Yer've got the wrong fella..." Ninurta hissed and slowly sliding from the bed, God was surprised to see that he was fully-clothed
A more cynical individual may have considered that the gunman didn't trust anyone. "...'Ah'm just keepin' my business mine" he said
easily and kept the murderous weapon trained on the intruder.
The Holy-Of-Holies pondered on how to open the tiny pot of UHT milk and thought better of it.
Black coffee was this man's regular drink he mused and turning slowly, he offered the steaming brew to the only guest of the run-down
establishment. "Your breakfast?" God chirped.
............................
Ninurta pushed himself from his relaxed position and stepped over to the bright vista of shimmering alders and cool lush grass
on the other side of the window. The Gunman's narrowed eyes soaked in the information without any of the anapestic ruminations
of this writer and after checking for any unnatural shadows, partly aimed his thought-process back to the situation in hand.
"It's that crazy Boy In A Dress, isn't it...?" the slow drawl came, "...he's in trouble again, ain't he?" and moving his cool-blue eyes
slightly, Ninurta watched God's reflection in the glass for confirmation.
............................
The desert sun tore into the musty room of Tucumcari's end-of-the-main-street's roadhouse as God pulled back the curtains and
soaked in the morning's rays. "Oh, that's good" he whispered to himself and smiled. Somewhere rain was quenching the thirst of
morning bluebells beside a babbling brook, but here, warmed-wood ticked and the air above metal shimmered.
Ninurta watched from the chair across the room as he sipped his java without any emotion, much like he did with anything these days.
"So, yer break into a man's room, say yer' the Divine Creator and want my view on today's society...? Is that about it?" the low-toned
gunman growled and struck a kitchen match on the small table beside him.
The one where his pistol lay close by.
God kept the smile on his deeply-lined face and glanced at his new disciple. "That's it in a nutshell, my son" he said happily.
Ninurta offered his non-revealing gaze at the invader and said nothing. "This world is changing so fast and some of the practices of
the past, the conduct and self-restraint, are being eroded away" the smiling Godhead said.
"...It's time somebody reminded the good-folk of this planet of their responsibilities" he added.
Ninurta crushed the stub of his cigar into the foil ashtray on the tiny table, shrugged. and holstered the dreadful firearm that was more
than just a gun. "Like 'ah said, yer've got the wrong fella" he growled and then instantly reached for his faithful sidearm.
Something had changed.
As written somewhere before, they were no longer in Kansas.
............................
The Absolute Being folded his arms and shook his head, the shoulder-length hair emulated the movement of the silver leaves of
the thin trees outside the courthouse as he thought on what to say next. If it hadn't been for this current quandary, it would be
doubtful that he and the man who'd badly battered Death during a fracas in Tombstone, would have ever met.
It wasn't that God didn't like Ninurta, his compass was fair and his philosophy of self held a rare quality that had faded in recent years.
But it was his Gunman's passage through life that caused the Creator to frown, Ninurta's unflagging ability to destroy anything that
even brushed those single-minded tenets of his.
To make matters worse, the grizzled man under the desert-weathered hat had befriended someone even more out-of-place than
the person who presently stood beside him. In another time, God would've applauded such a rare commodity for such a man like
Ninurta.
The Guardian of Continuation sighed to himself as pondered this other being waiting in the assizes behind them.
Boy In A Dress wasn't one of his. The eyeless freak in the short dress and toting the weird hair had not been on his list of original
design and even though the bare-thighed creature had seemed to pass through this reality on a fairly peaceful path, God had been
giving serious consideration to halting his existence and getting this world back on-track.
That was before Ninurta had connected with the constantly-grinning singularity.
............................
"Welcome to New York..." God announced and held his arms in the air "...the city that never sleeps!" A low-crouching Ninurta spun a
full circle and kept the barrel of his ancient firearm in front of him throughout the function. The riverside walkway was empty except
for him and the strange old man who needed a haircut.
In the early-morning mist, the gunman recognised the Brooklyn Bridge towering above them and he checked and rechecked his
surroundings, his first thoughts were that he'd somehow been dragged back into the past. The days of the other-worlds.
"Fella, 'ah don't know what you've done, but you've better have a good reason..." Ninurta began and then faltered as the stranger
stood beside him and placed a finger to the lips of the man that had once travelled through time as well as space.
"Listen to me and they will listen to you" God whispered.
............................
After a young man passed by with an armful of files and left his cologne lingering in the corridor, the old white-haired gent and the
gunslinger looked at each other across the serious surroundings. "This case is about the person you said, but I feel that your views
and opinions need to be aired in a situation more... more ubiquitous" God said and suddenly turned towards the Courtroom door.
"We're up" he supplemented and brushed the lapels of his tweed livery.
The trail-dusty man that stepped up beside him thought about the All Powerful deity's earlier dialogue and with a pull on the brim of
his hat, he let the words drift away. He was what he was and that was the way it should be, he thought.
The Usher opened the large oak door and gestured for the pair to enter and the confused gaze of the young bailiff wasn't lost on the
gunman with the giant pistol on his hip. Confidently striding into the hallowed room in scuffed cowboy boots, Ninurta's footfalls were
loud on the varnished floor.
"See...? you should have worn a tie" God whispered from the side of his mouth.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.