Scuppered

Captain Fletcher of her Majesty's Royal Navy gallantly stood before the tribunal. If he was aware that he faced court-martial, whipping, and possibly even death, he showed no sign of it in his stoic demeanor.

This was, of course, not his first appearance before the tribunal. In fact, it was the seventh time that he had scuppered one of his vessels, and his commanding officers rightly wondered about his abilities to captain, though they eventually acquitted him.

Years later, it was learned that the true reason for his constant failures was that he just really enjoyed using the word scuppered.

It's Only Divine Right

God stared at the tribunal with hate in his eyes. An old testament type of hate, the likes of which had not been seen in many years.

"You realize who I am, right?"

"Yes sir, but rules are rules. We must follow the procedures." God scrutinized the angel Zadkeil and lamented ever abdicating total control of heaven.

Another angel, God did not bother to recall her name, began a roll call of his offenses, beginning with the usual complaints, like unanswered prayers and genocide.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I plead the fifth, as is my right."

Heretics

The tribunal accounted heresy as the gravest of capital crimes. The methods of sentence varied according to whim, but whether by fire or crucifixion, their death would be painful.

Bartholomew and George faced their accusers girded by an equal mixture of fear and antipathy. The cowards did not even have the courtesy to face them, but hid behind a poster of black cloth.

"Do you wish to recant?" Only the worst offenders were given such an opportunity.

Bartholomew refused. "I will die first."

And so he did. Gruesomely.

"And you, George, do you wish to recant?"

"Yes. Yes I do."