Read part 5 here.
Dr. Heliogabalus: “Oh, it’s too late to run anywhere, Mr. Horne. This courtroom is locked up like a bank vault. There are no windows and no emergency exits. And the only weapons allowed are carried by the bailiff—ME!”
Justice Byclericalerror: “Wait a minute. Wait a minute. WAIT A MINUTE. Are you seriously insinuating that you, bailiff, are the murder victim?”
Mr. Devil’s Advocate: “That’s him, your honor.”
Prosecutor Downarrow: “Wow, he’s so much more…uh…Willy-Wonka-ish than I’d been led to believe.”
You think that’s weird? You haven’t seen him when he gets his hands on a…
Dr. H: “Now meet your doom at the hands of my razor-sharp, Hyksos-era Khopesh!”
JB: “Order! Order! Bailiff, I command you to stand down.”
Dr. H: “Not until you’ve all been cut to pieces by the latest and greatest in ancient Canaanite weaponry. BA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA.”
Mr. DA: “You cannot reason with this man, your honor. If we can’t run, then we have to fight him.”
JB: “With what?”
Dr. H: “How about with an 18th-century, brass-barrelled, Heylin blunderbuss?”
Dr. H: “Oh wait: that’s what I’ve got.”
JB: “It would appear that fighting is not an option.”
Well, we’d better think of something, before he sets off that fire-breathing elegant weapon for a more civilized age.
Dr. H: “Too late!”
Are you alright?
JB: “A little singed, but I’ll be fine. Is there nothing that can stop him?”
PD: “There’s one thing left we can try. Get a load of this.”
JB: “Miss Downarrow! How dare you bring a weapon into this courtroom?”
PD: “This little thing? Puh-lease. It’s as much a weapon as a potato peeler. I use it mostly when I want to get freaky. You remember the fun times we had with this toy, Brady?”
*Everyone looks at Mr. Devil’s Advocate.*
Mr. DA: “Hey, I warned you she was crazy.”
Not like it matters. Dr. H is still better armed than any of us. That knife isn’t going to get close enough to hurt him.
PD: “With all due respect, Mr. Horne, you’ve now officially failed at murder. Besides, there’s more than one way to hurt a man. Yo, Horatio!”
Dr. H: “Yeah?”
PD: “I have a hostage.”
Dexter, the Talking Chinchilla: “…”
PD: “Chinchilla is the most luxurious of furs, wouldn’t you agree? This one should make a fine tea cozy.”
Dr. H: “Are you INSANE?! That’s the only talking chinchilla in the entire world, and the only one there ever will be. How could you even think about killing something so rare?”
PD: “It won’t be hard. I bet I can do it with one stab. C’mon, I’ll give you ten-to-one odds.”
Dr. H: *Looks around, panicked.* “Mr. Horne, stop her.”
You want me to do something for you? No thanks.
Dr. H: “You have no idea what’s at stake here. Dexter knows things–precious things that should not be lost. And not even you could condone the slaughter of an innocent pet.”
Innocent? He was with you every time you tried to kill me.
Dr. H: “I could never afford to let him out of my sight. He’s that important. You have to believe me.”
No I most certainly do not. After all the things you’ve done to me, after shooting up this courtroom, I don’t owe you a thing. Don’t come crying to me now that your chickens have come home to roost.
PD: *Laughs* “So what’s it going to be, Horatio? Your revenge…or the rodent’s life?”
Dr. H: “Alright! Just give me Dexter and I’ll leave.”
PD: “Oh no, no, no. I’m not trusting you with anything. Instead, why don’t I keep the little fellow, as an insurance policy against any future attacks? I’ll be a responsible owner…as long as you never show your face.”
Dr. H: “That is not acceptable.”
PD: “Then let’s find out how acceptable the alternative is.” *Presses the knife against Dexter’s fluffy white belly.*
Dexter, the Talking Chinchilla: “…”
Dr. H: “Okay! Okay! I’m leaving. Just promise that you’ll keep him safe.”
PD: “I’ll spoil him rotten.”
Dr. H: “And that you’ll donate to PBS.”
Dr. H: “Rrrrgh. You win today, Mr. Horne. But make no mistake: I will be back. And when that happens, the entire world will behold my beautiful wrath, made possible by Viewers. Like. You.”
*Unlocks the courtroom doors and storms out.*
To be continued… (Read part 7 here.)