"No," she lied. "I didn't kill her."

The counselor on cross-examination, with years of training and decades of experience in on-your-feet thinking behind him, blinked. He wasn't quite certain why he blinked at times like these. He had speculated that it gave him a sense of security. When you think to blink, your eyelids have this cordial habit of obeying; they dip for a split-second or two, and they rise. He did it again for an extra boost of confidence. He thought to blink. He blinked. Great. "What?"

"I said," she stated, "that I didn't kill her."

He thought to blink. He blinked. There was now no chance in his mind that maybe he hadn't properly cleaned his ears this morning. "Do you deny," he asked, "that the woman in question is indeed dead?"

"No," she lied. "I didn't kill her."

"Your Honor, I move to strike any and all testimony after the word "no," as it was not responsive to the question at hand."

"Mowtion denoid, that evidence has awlready been entahed," Her Honor replied, her voice thickly laden with a Noo Yawk accent.

The counselor questioned that logic behind the ruling given, questioned woman's lib and blinked. "So you do deny that she is dead, is that it?"

"No - I mean yes - I mean ... maybe?"

"Think it over, ma'am," suggested the lawyer, asserting his control and correcting his posture in the process. His wife always told him he had horrible posture.. Control, he thought. He blinked.

"I don't deny denying it," she decided. "I didn't kill her," she added, for emphasis.

"Yes, I think we can all agree that you seem quite vehement in that belief, ma'am. However, you say that the woman is alive?"

"No," she lied, "just not dead."

The lawyer decided that this response prompted another line of questioning he'd been planning on using later on. "You've taken psychological exams in your life, ma'am, have you not?"

"Yes."

"You in fact had the opportunity to take one shortly before coming to court, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you received a note that diagnoses you as sane, is that correct?"

"No, sir," she lied, "I didn't kill her." This last part she said very matter-of-factly, as if taunting the examiner.

"Motion to stri-"

"Mowtion denoid," stated Her Honor, filing her nails.

Somehow, over the decades, Milton Jacobson had avoided seeing the giving and taking of bribes in the courtroom, perhaps by virtue of his infamous naivete. Jacobson's naivete was a subject of many jokes of Jacobson's colleagues, the remaining jokes being about Jacobson's wife. Jokes were usually lost on Jacobson, and he was always caught leaning his head back, trying to discern them as they drifted over. "Um," he said, blinking.

"She's undead," stated the defendant triumphantly.

One of Jacobson's colleagues at the prosecutors' table behind him couldn't suppress a snicker. Jacobson leaned his head back, but this did not provide further clarity. While he was up there he thought, "Why me?" and blinked, hoping halfheartedly for divine inter-vention. Divine intervention did not intervene. Jacobson tried a last resort, and went back to the basics.

"Are you under oath, ma'am?" Jacobson asked.

"Maybe."

"Weren't you sworn in?"

"Yes."

"Didn't you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?"

"I lied."

This time, when Jacobson thought to blink, his eyelids fell, and failed to rise. The attorney was found to be dead on the spot. The defendant was given an acquittal on the charge that Milton had been prosecuting, but she was found guilty later that year for the murder of Milton Jacobson in causing unnecessarily excessive mental anguish. The local tabloid printed a headline that read: "LEGAL SYSTEM WORKS," subtitled, "DEAD LAWYER'S WIFE ADMITS TO SINFUL ACTS WITH DECEASED'S COLLEAGUES," coupled with a picture that strongly suggested that airbrushed photos of Jacobson's wife made her look remarkably like Elvis. n