The Adventures of Krunch MacKenzie
Episode 1
"The case of The People of Missouri vs. Brandon Bates will now come to order," said Judge Wallace, the rap of his gavel pealing through the stuffy, beige courtroom. Somebody in the gallery sniffed. "Is the prosecution ready?"
The towering, muscular form of Krunch MacKenzie stood up from his seat at the prosecutor's table. "It is, your honor."
"And is the defense ready?" the judge asked next.
The towering, muscular form of Krunch MacKenzie stood up from his seat at the defense's table. "It is, your honor."
"Objection," called Krunch MacKenzie, nearly knocking over the prosecutor's table in his haste to throw the first punch of the trial. His typically charming and jovial features were now downturned in a devastating frown that could only highlight how serious this matter was. "I'm serving as the counsel for both the prosecution and the defense? Surely this is a conflict of interest."
"I'm inclined to agree," Judge Wallace started, "except that I can't quite determine which side of the court this conflict of interest favors. I guess I have no choice but to allow it for now," he decided, throwing his hands upward in uncertainty. Somebody in the gallery sniffed.
"Thank you, your honor," said Mr. MacKenzie, his navy pinstripe suit hugging his body tightly as he tapped his papers into order on the defense's table. He gave a quick nod to the stringy-haired, stringy-bodied, bespectacled young man seated at the table next to him, before turning to address the court. The boyish smile had returned to his face, his teeth gleaming white against his deep bronze skin. "Ladies and gentleman of the jury," he began forcefully, "we are assembled today because of the series of grisly murders that have shaken the city of St. Louis these last few months. I recognize that these have been trying times, dark times," he continued, now pacing back and forth and rolling up the sleeves of his suit jacket to expose his toned biceps. "I recognize that, because of these horrid events, Missouri has made national news for the first time in 14 years. And I, like all of you, want the monster behind these random, thoughtless attacks to be brought to justice."
"And yet!" he suddenly stopped, pointing a finger into the air to punctuate his point. Somebody in the gallery sniffed. "In our desperation to see justice done, we have acted too rashly! We are not doing justice! And, by the conclusion of this trial, I will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Brandon Bates is not the murderer he seems!"
"Objection!" Krunch MacKenzie cried from the prosecutor's table, rising to his feet for the third time in as many minutes.
"What is your objection, Mr. MacKenzie?" asked the judge, peering over his bench at the prosecutor.
"Mr. Bates is murdering Juror Number 7 as we speak, your honor."
In unison, the room turned to look at the jury box. Indeed, Juror Number 7 was whimpering pathetically as Brandon repeatedly plunged a chef's knife into the man's chest. Somebody in the gallery sniffed.
"Good lord!" cried Judge Wallace. "Bailiff! Restrain that man!"
Brandon was soon in handcuffs, but his apprehension was of little comfort to Juror Number 7, who appeared to be in great pain. Looking panicked now, the judge asked, "Is there a doctor in the court?!"
"I'm a doctor!" announced Krunch MacKenzie, his efforts to knock over the prosecutor's table successful this time. He tore away his suit, revealing a lab coat and stethoscope underneath.
"A doctor AND a lawyer?" the judge asked, clearly skeptical. "And you're only 28?"
"I don't think we have time to argue about this, your honor," said Dr. MacKenzie, vaulting the railing of the jury box—as well as a couple jurors—to reach the injured man.
After a few tense minutes that largely involved some impressive stitching and saying the word "scalpel" too many times to make any meaningful sense, Juror Number 7 returned to his seat in the jury box. Despite the bandages wrapping his chest, he smiled and flashed a big thumbs-up at MacKenzie. Somebody in the gallery sniffed.
"Objection, your honor," interjected Mr. MacKenzie, tearing away his lab coat to reveal an impeccably-tailored navy pinstripe suit with the sleeves already rolled up. "Clearly the prosecution is attempting to garner favor with the jury."
"Sustained," agreed the judge. Addressing the court stenographer, he said, "Strike Mr. MacKenzie's heroic deed from the record. Now, Mr. MacKenzie. I believe it's time for the prosecution to make its opening statements?"
"Thank you, your honor," said Krunch as he adjusted his tie, "but given recent events, I don't think the jury will have any difficulty of convicting Mr. Bates a murderer." A few chuckles titter through the courtroom; Juror Number 7 seemed to be guffawing the hardest.
However, the mirthful murmurs were quickly interrupted. "Objection," called Mr. MacKenzie as the camera cut back over to the defense's table. "Juror Number 7 is obviously still alive."
"What is your point?" Judge Wallace asked, his tone grave. Somebody in the gallery sniffed.
"Well, if Juror Number 7 hasn't actually been murdered, then clearly my client can't be called a murderer."
The gallery erupted into unintelligible conversation. "Order! ORDER!" shouted Judge Wallace as he sharply banged his gavel. "Truly," he continued as the courtroom settled down, "the logic presented by the counsel is undeniable. I hereby find the defendant not guilty on all charges."
"Why are we even here today?" the Foreman asked Juror Number 2. The defense team, meanwhile, cheered in victory, Krunch MacKenzie the loudest and most enthusiastic of all.