Osric Goes to Court

by Charles C. Cole

The elf wore an orange jumpsuit, handcuffs and leg irons. He was small, just over half the size of his suited human attorney. He followed his counsel to their designated table, jingling all the way.

“Isn’t this an overreaction?” asked the elf. “I mean, look at me. Who hasn’t stolen a pair of boots? My father used to do it all the time. They weren’t even new. Or clean.”

The public defender took charge. He wore his glasses pushed up above his forehead, rather comically. “Word of advice: be polite. Only talk when spoken to. Maybe he’s in a good mood. Christmas is still months away.”

The bailiff, a humanoid chap with antlers and hooved feet, stepped forward. “All rise.”

In walked the legendary fat man, full-bearded and wearing red with white trim: Santa the Claus.

“The right honorable Judge Kris Kringle presiding,” intoned the bailiff.

The elf whispered: “He wears his holiday uniform on the bench?”

“For him, every day that isn’t the holiday is prepping for the holiday.”

Santa took his seat. The attorney and his client followed.

The defense counsel whispered: “Remember: act remorseful. Use his big heart to your advantage.”

The elf looked around the room. They were the only ones present. “Shouldn’t we wait for the prosecutor?”

“He’s judge, jury and prosecutor. You’re lucky you have me.”

Santa reread a sheet of paper he had been carrying, then flipped it over. He looked deep into the eyes of the defendant - whose chin almost rested on the table.

The elf whispered: “You could have gotten me something more accommodating to sit on. I feel intentionally disrespected. I feel like—”

The bailiff cut him off, loudly and firmly: “Silence in the court.”

Santa: “You may speak.”

Elf: “Thank you, Your Honor.” The elf stood on his chair, the better to be seen. “Hi, how are you? Love the traditional attire.”

Counsel jumped in: “He means me.”

The bailiff practically shouted: “The defendant will sit in the chair provided, quietly.”

Counsel waited until the elf sat, which didn’t take long.

Santa: “Counsel, you have something to say?”

“Yes, Your Honor. The defendant assures me he took the boots to repair them and return them. But, when caught in the act, he panicked and ran. It was a misunderstanding that hardly rose to the level of a crime, especially when we know how busy Your Honor is.”

“Christmas is coming,” said Santa, “364 days a year, with very little rest for the weary.”

“We apologize for pulling you away from Toy Land for such a trivial matter.”

Santa nodded at the bailiff, who called out: “The defendant may stand.” The elf did, but he was mostly hidden by his table.

“Go ahead and stand on the chair, defendant,” said Santa. “You caught me in a good mood. Let yourself be seen. Considering the number of elves who make an appearance before me, bailiff, see to it that we install a chair for someone of the defendant’s stature in future.”

“Yes, Your Honor. Right away,” said the bailiff.

“Defendant, how do you pronounce your name? I want to get it right.”

“Osric Demsky, Your Honor.”

“Osric Demsky, having considered the facts and circumstances in your case, the court finds you guilty of all charges and sentences you to—”

“But, Your Honor, Santa, you’re famous across the world for your compassion and generosity. Don’t you want to hear my side?”

The bailiff yelled, “Order. The defendant will not speak unless asked a question. Understood?”

Osric flinched. “Yes. It’s just: I’ve never been a defendant before. I apologize.”

Santa continued, “The defendant is correct: I am merciful. That’s why I’m not sentencing you to any jail time.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.”

“Community service seems a better choice in this case,” continued Santa.

“That’s the Santa my parents told me about,” said Osric.

“One more outburst,” said the bailiff, “and the defendant will begin his sentence with hard labor, breaking big rocks into smaller ones. Understood?”

“Thank you, bailiff,” said Santa. “I appreciate your efforts, but the defendant is scared out of his wits. I get it. After all, Santa knows when you’ve been bad. You probably thought I was throwing you into a human jail, where someone of your stature would easily be victimized. Instead, I sentence you to one year community service at Santa’s workshop, where we can always use another pair of hands.”

Osric whispered: “My uncle went there, and we haven’t heard from him since.”

“Like the court, we have rules. And there are consequences for breaking them. Don’t break them. Instead, enjoy three square meals a day. Only two to a cell. Terrific health insurance. And a special purpose of bringing happiness to children. And maybe learn a skill while you’re there.”

Santa brought his gavel down once and stood.

The bailiff said, “All rise.”

Santa made his way back to the judge’s quarters. Just before he exited, he paused before the bailiff and added, “You’re looking sharp, Antonio.” Then he disappeared. The bailiff made his way to the back of the courtroom and let two uniformed human guards in. They approached Osric’s table.

“I’m sorry, Osric,” said the defense attorney. “Right about now, if I know Santa, he needs all the help he can get. If you’re lucky, you’ll work hard, avoid fights, and get out early for good behavior.”

“Come with us,” said one of the guards. “Your shuttle’s waiting.”

“Tell my mother I’m sorry,” said Osric to his counsel. “I made some bad choices. I’ll do better. This isn’t the end, but a new beginning.” Osric was led away. The defense attorney felt a presence and turned to find the bailiff had neared.

“Tough case,” said Antonio, “but Santa feels shorthanded with a deadline looming. You’ll definitely be on the Nice List this year. Need anything?”

“Right now, a reduced sentence for Osric would make me happy.”

“I’ll put in a word with the big man,” said Antonio.