"But this is your court, Fanshawe," Baxter went on. He whistled high and loud.
"And here comes the judge!" Howard celebrated.
The mad growling could already be heard. Footsteps crunched, and in a moment another man entered the clearing. He was in his seventies, balding and bespectacled, with a large, gleaming forehead.
"Howdy, fellas," he greeted.
"Hey, Monty," Baxter said. "Thanks for loanin' Buster out."
"Oh, it's always a pleasure! Old men like us need a thrill every now and then."
"I'll drink to that!" exclaimed Yankees.
The man-Monty-came closer into moonlight, and he brought a scampering shape with him. Fanshawe could only stare in unreserved despair when he got a look at the snuffling, snarling canine at Monty's side. It was not quite the giant Doberman he'd witnessed in the town of old, but instead an overly large pit bull with strings of foam hanging from its maw and b.u.mps of muscles tensing. The animal's eyes looked insane from the beginning, but when the dog saw Fanshawe's head sticking out of the barrel- "Ho, boy! Not yet, Buster!"
-it lunged, tugging its leash, and nearly pulled Monty down. Terrifying barks ripped out of its throat. Those insane eyes seemed as intent on Fanshawe's face as if he were a pile of raw steak.
"Mr. Fanshawe here says he wants his day in court," Baxter began, "but he knows full well that courts don't serve justice no more, and what they were designed to do is serve justice. For the people. The law-abiding people of this great land. That's what the Founding Fathers wanted."
"You can't kill a guy for looking in windows!" Fanshawe wailed.
"Aw, but nowadays? Things are just all twisted up and messed about so bad there ain't no real justice left anymore. Now, take a rich fella like you. Oh, sure we could call the cops, give statements that we seen you peeping in windows, not to mention the security tape of you stealing the gla.s.s, but then you'd just hire yourself a Dream Team and get off scot free. d.a.m.n, Fanshawe, the Founding Fathers would s.h.i.+t in their graves if they knew what American Justice has turned into. Politicians and rich men? They can do whatever they want."
The slavering dog barked several times, as if in agreement.
"But back in the old days, when things were based on common sense and majority rules instead of loopholes and kickbacks and plea bargains, the idea of justice still meant something. Witches and warlocks threatened the stability of the community, so they were executed-it was the law of the land. Same for murderers and rapists and child molesters, you name it."
"I didn't kill anyone!" Fanshawe blared. "I've never raped anyone! All I did was look in some windows!"
Baxter's shadow from the moonlight nodded. "Well that's just it, Fanshawe. Back then they killed perverts just like they killed all the rest of the sc.u.m. Crimes against nature and G.o.d; that's how we took care of ou
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