After The Verdict

“Mr. Bromley, before I sentence you, do you have anything to say to this Court?”

“I'm innocent, Your Honor.”

“I meant anything more than that nonsense. You've been found guilty by a jury of your peers. You understand, don't you?”

“I think I would've done better with a different lawyer.”

“By the way...Why did you choose your brother-in-law, Mr. Bromley?”

“Because, Your Honor, my sister-in-law cost a lot more. But I tell you, I'm innocent.”

“I told you to stop saying that.”

“Your Honor...”

“Yes...”

“Maybe if I'd offered a better bribe? Would that have made all the difference?”

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

On The Floor

Marty was a penny stock trader back in the 80s. A breathtaking collection of liars and cheats, everyone doing blow. Stock exchange officials were bribed. Client accounts were bled. It was something to behold.

His supposedly statelier sales manager was all smiles but for the dead shark eyes. He would say, "If people want yellow ties, sell them goddamn yellow ties."

Once or twice a month, after market hours, Marty would go out and stick up random banks, his rickety scheme to salvage honour.

His profession was put early to the silicon sword. Mercifully, Marty never saw the party end.

From Guest Contributor Kevin Campbell

Kevin writes in Vancouver, Canada.

The Artist

No one knew his name, they simply called him the artist. He would breeze into town every few months and offer to paint their portraits.

At first, people were eager to oblige, sometimes lining up for their turn. It was deemed a great honor because the paintings were so lifelike.

But soon they learned about the dark side to having their portrait painted. People stopped trusting the artist and would run away whenever he appeared.

Anytime the artist painted someone, that person became an instant celebrity. The attention it brought was a tremendous burden. They preferred to live in obscurity.