Our Days Are All Filled With Easy Country Charm

Remember  Misfit Molly? She surely had no clue the firestorm she would ignite when she listed the Judge as a member in good standing in the Secret Society of Scryers. 

To be or not to be (as Shakespeare would say) a Judge in the country…. Let me tell you, may God have mercy on his (her) very Soul. You don’t only have all the criminal cases from the town where the courthouse resides, but all the villages that are in a hundred mile or so radius….so you don’t need to look for trouble…because, well, trouble finds you…. 

Now all of these towns jockey and compete for any industry or shopping center, the local high schools try to decimate each other on the basketball court, the football field, the hockey rink…all out war, all the time…but when it came to the Ivy League educated Judge, every member on the county were on the same side…any Judge that sent someone’s First Cousin Twice Remove to prison on a trumped-up charge was a dirty judge.

How did they know?   Well, if you had ears to hear and eyes to see knew it was the Mayor’s son that was guilty….but he had been accepted in to his own Ivy League College and it could ruin not only his future but his father’s chance of re-election. And the Judge and the Mayor were both in the Rotary Club, the Golf Club…the Brotherhood of I’ll Stick Up For Yours If You’ll Stick Up For Mine.

Those country folks may not have been booked learned but they knew a thing or two about a thing or two.  If the Judge had used the Secret Society of Scryers divinations to find a fall guy, then let him sit through an investigation and trial…put the shoe on the other foot, so to speak, Cinderella.

No one even remembered what the charge was…some said the offence was stealing the provincial flag from the local arena, replacing it with a Maple Leaf Forever.  Indictable Offense, for sure.

Others said some gravestones of some executive’s family were knocked over …well, freaking tall and wide monuments, to be exact, erected so everyone could remember how important they were, how rich they were, in comparison to the rest of the have-nots.

It was not like the Judge had an easy time with the moonshine boys, the petty thievery, the almost assaults in the bar room brawls…if that wasn’t enough, there were some men who came to court, no charges against them and begged to be put in jail all winter so they could have three square meals and a roof over their head.  The snow really piled up in this county while Arctic Vortexes hovered…so a well thought out long-range plan was essential to exist.

Not that First Cousin Twice Removed would come to no harm in jail with this more toothless than tough crowd who wouldn’t even recognize a gang member if they met him in their soup.  Still, it was the  injustice of ‘lock him up’ (Right, Hillary?) while the Mayor’s son skated freely through life that just burned the country folk to the bone.

So it came to pass, the highest court in the province found a Lady Judge who was worthy of being harassed by a bevy of folks as vocal and mad as Banty  Hens and Coc-A-Doodle-Doo Roosters. 

Lord Have Mercy on Her Soul!