Daddy Material

Daddy Material
by Scribe

Judge Harry Stone whistled softly as he studied his reflection in the men's room mirror. He opened another button on his robe, spreading the front open another inch so that his shirt collar would be more visible. Then he adjusted the bright red carnation that was tucked in his button hole. He heard the door open, and a navy serge wall, decorated with brass buttons, appeared behind him. He didn't bother to look up. "Hey, Bull."

"Evening, Judge Stone." Bull Shannon stepped up to the sink on Harry's other side, pulled an electric razor out of his pocket (Bull was probably the only person in the courthouse who wore clothes with pockets big enough to do that, and plugged it into the outlet.

"Forgot to shave?"

"Didn't have time. I overslept."

"That's not like you."

"I haven't been myself lately."

Keeping his voice casual, Harry turned slightly toward Bull. "What do you think--should I stick with red, or is that too festive?"

Bull glanced down at the boutineer. "I think that red and black is a suitably judicious color scheme. It looks nice."

"Yeah, but I'm not getting full value out of it. These commercially grown flowers are grown for looks and endurance. They just want them to stay in full bloom for the longest time possible. It's kind of like with apples. They're bred to withstand shipping, and the flavor has just gone right out of them." Bull was nodding. "Well, I think that these flowers have just about lost their scent." He put a thumb behind the flower, lifting it slightly. "Give it a sniff and tell me what you think."

Bull bent down obligingly. A stream of water squirted from the flower and splashed him right between the eyes. As Bull stood back up, Harry spread his hands in a 'gotcha' gesture. "Very amusing, sir," said Bull flatly.

"Nice, huh? It's silk."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't water stain silk?"

Harry blinked, and looked at the flower. "Well, damn. No wonder I got it so cheap." He plucked the flower from his lapel and tossed it toward the trash. He missed, and bent down to retrieve it. While he was near the floor he noticed something, and he had a puzzled look on his face when he stood up. "Bull? Why are you wearing bedroom slippers?"

"My feet have been swollen lately."

"I can't believe it's me saying this, but are you sure that slippers are appropriate courtroom attire?"

"I'm wearing the plain leather ones, not the gold ones with the curly toes."

"And you have no idea how much I appreciate that. But I think that our insurance company wants you to wear regular shoes. I mean, who can tell when one of the plaintiffs might decide to dance a tarentella on your tootsies?"

"They'd get the surprise of their life, sir." He tapped his foot against the wall. *clunkclunk* "Steel toed."

"Uhhhh-huh. Okay." He checked his watch. "Say, it's almost time. Are you sure you need to shave?"

"Yes sir." He ran a hand over his pate. "I'm getting stubbly. It'll only take a minute."

"Right. See you in court." He left.

Bull clicked on the shaver and ran it quickly and efficiently over his bald head. Then he put it away and pulled out a tube of moisturizer from his other pocket and massaged a dab into his scalp. Finally he ran his hand slowly over his head and smirked at himself in the mirror. "Baby's butt-ville." He put away the tube and started for the door, but paused.

He quickly unbuttoned his uniform jacket and peered down at his stomach. He pressed a palm to his flat belly, then squinted up at the ceiling in concentration. After a moment he sighed. He muttered, "On the plus side I'll probably just look like I'm getting a beer belly till I hit my second trimester."

He buttoned up his jacket and went out to the courtroom.

*****

A week later

Harry once again went into the men's room before court began. He almost tripped over the feet sticking out from under the door of one of the stalls. He'd done that once before--the time that the clowns from the visiting circus had driven their midget car into a convenience store. It was a little disconcerting to see the tips of yard long purple and yellow lace ups sticking out from under the door. This time, though, the position of the feet indicated that the person in question wasn't sitting, but was instead kneeling in front of the bowl.

Harry considered the length of the legs and the size of the shoes (size fifteen, at least). "You okay in there, Bull?" *urk* "I'm going to take that as a no." *uuurk* "A big no. You need any help?"

Bull's voice was faint. "A sledgehammer might be nice."

"Sledgehammer?"

"I've found that one of those between the eyes usually works as an anesthetic. I think I'm all right. Give me a second." There was the sound of a toilet flushing, then the metal walls of the stall creaked and swayed alarmingly as Bull braced himself and stood up.

Bull came out, and Harry said, "You sure? You're lookin' a little green around the gills."

"Say, Harry, did you know that at one point in gestation a baby actually has gill-like structures? They close up, though."

"Fascinating. But are you all right?"

"I am now. I've just been a little queasy the last few days."

"The last few days? Shouldn't you see a doctor?"

"No, it's nothing serious. It goes away after I've been up a few hours, or eat some soda crackers." He pulled a pack of crackers out of his pocket and popped it in his mouth.

"You might want to consider unwrapping those."

Bull spit the crackers out. "I thought they were chewier than usual. Thanks, Harry. I'm a little preoccupied these days."

"I'd have never known. Are you sure you're going to be all right to work?"

Bull had opened the cellophane pack, and now he poured cracker crumbs into his mouth. He munched, then said, "Yeah, it shouldn't be a problem."

"Now be sure, because frankly, if you keel over they're going to have call the fire department to set up a crane to move you."

"Trust me." Harry started out. "Oh, Judge Stone, please warn Dan about one thing."

"That would be?"

"You mentioned I was looking a little green. If he hums the Green Giant jingle or goes 'Ho-ho-ho!', I'm going to have to hurt him."

"Gotcha."

Harry went out. Again Bull unbuttoned his jacket and contemplated his belly, pressing on it thoughtfully. "Nothing yet? Well, he did say not to expect anything till after the fourth month."

Bull went out to the court and took up his position next to Roz. She glanced up at him. "Been worshippin' the porcelain god again?" Bull shrugged. "That's the fifth day in a row. What have you been eating? WHERE have you been eating? Seriously, I need to know so I can avoid it."

"I've been eating at home," he assured her. "I'm trying to eat more healthy. Lots of milk, greens, red meat. The red meat isn't such a stretch."

Roz grunted. "Tell me about it. There are cows in Texas who scream when they hear your name. If you got the flu, you shouldn't be at work."

"Believe me, Roz--it isn't catching."

Dan sidled over. "New brand of make-up?"

Roz shrugged. "Same as always."

"I wasn't talking to you." He studied Bull's face. "Harry warned me about the vegetable references. I suppose Lucky Charms or Herman Munster allusions are out of the question."

"Not unless you really WANT to limp for a few weeks," said Bull calmly.

Dan patted him. "Try a sun lamp."

Harry took his seat on the bench and Mac consulted his folder. "First case--State of New York vs. Mister Alemande Left. Creating a disturbance and public nuisance."

Dan looked over at the man standing beside Christine. The plaintiff was wearing bib overall, a plaid flannel shirt, and a straw hat. "The defendant took the mic away from the lead singer at the Times Square Dance Club, and insisted on calling a square dance..."

"It was a reel," the man piped up. "A Virginia Reel."

"The point is that the band had been playing a medley from Footloose. Mister Left's unauthorized hijacking of the sound system inspired the club patrons to..." he smirked, "cut loose."

An irate, disheveled looking man came to the rail that divided the courtroom. "That turkey in the straw incited a riot! The cost of cleaning up the stains caused by the thrown hot wings alone will cost a hundred bucks."

Dan nodded at him. "The club owner, Mister Dan 'Get Down With Your Bad Self' Dance, your honor. He is a witness to the defendants unlawful mic rustling."

Harry looked back and forth between the defendant and the plaintiff, smiling. He gestured between them with his gavel. "I'm gonna bet that neither one of those monikers are your real names." Both men cleared their throats.

"Your honor," said Christine. "While it's true that Mister Left did refuse to give up the mic once he had it, he was perfectly entitled to have it in the first place. It WAS open mic night. He was just exercising his right to perform."

Harry looked at the plaintiff. "Mister Dance?"

"Well..." the man said reluctantly, "Yeah. We just recently started a karaoke night. But, I mean... We had Let's Hear It for The Boy keyed up on the screen, and he's up there doing 'do-si-do, bow to your partner, alemande left, alemand..." His eyes got wide and he looked at the defendant with a 'comes the dawn' expression. "Say..." His expression hardened. "But he shouldn'ta made with that hick crap."

"It says very clearly on your sign--Square Dance Club," insisted Left.

"TIMES Square!" yelled Dance.

Harry banged his gavel. "You can cut your volume down, or you can pay me fifty bucks for contempt--your choice." The man closed his mouth tight. "Thought so. Miss Sullivan?"

"Your honor," said Christine, "nowhere was it stated in writing that the patrons were limited in their selections. Neither did the management make a verbal statement to that effect."

"Did so!" protested Dance.

"Yelling, 'cut the shit kicking shit' doesn't count," snapped Christine.

"Mister Dance, is that true about the no official statement?" asked Harry.

"Well..." said the owner. "Uh... yeah."

Harry shook his head. "Then I'm afraid you're going to have to eat your cleaning costs. This court finds that there was no intention to cause a riot. You just had rowdy, rude customers, sir. You might want to look into putting less pepper sauce in the hot wings." He banged his gavel. "Case dismissed."

As the defendant made his way out, Mac consulted his file. "Next case--State of New York vs. Maybeline La Crevice."

Bull held up one finger. "Judge, I need to suggest a short break."

"We just got started," said Harry.

"Let me put it this way--may I strongly suggest a nature break, unless you want it to get very natural, very quickly."

Mac spoke up quickly, "Charge is..."

Harry grinned at the flashily dressed, gum chewing woman standing next to Christine. "Hi, May. Same charge as usual?" She saluted him. "Prosecutor?"

Dan said, "Oldest profession."

"Counsilor?"

Christine said, "Entrapment."

Harry said, "Nice try. May?" The woman shrugged. He banged his gavel. "Fifty dollars and time served. Ten minute break, everyone."

"Better make it fifteen minutes," said Bull as he headed for the door. "I think those crackers are coming back to haunt me."

The people in the courtroom milled, chatting idly. Christine was using a cell phone. Dan came over. "What are you whispering about?"

"I am NOT whispering," said Christine. "I'm talking in a reasonable tone of voice."

"You had your hand cupped over your mouth."

"Possibly to thwart eavesdroppers?"

"Are you talking to a man?"

"Kind of." She looked up alertly, obviously hearing something from the other end. "Yes, I love you, too. Aw, that's so sweet." Dan was leering. "You're my big, strong, handsome man, yes you are. I'm gonna just kiss your toes when I get home." Dan was salivating. "Then I'm gonna blow raspberries on your belly." Dan raised an eyebrow, mouthing the word 'kinky'. "Then I'm gonna give you a bottle and put you to bed. Oh, don't fuss. I'll let you sleep with me tonight. Nighty-nite." She closed the phone.

"Sounds like you have a big night planned," Dan purred.

"Oh, I do."

"He's a lucky man to have you willing to do all that."

"I'm also probably going to have to change his diaper. That was my son, Dan. I have the nanny hold the phone to his ear so I can talk to him."

Harry had been practicing balancing his gavel on his forehead. He could manage doing it gavel side down, but he wanted to be able to do it upright. He was having a noticable lack of success. The second time Mac picked the gavel up off the floor and handed it to him the he grumbled, "Sir, if you're going to do that, tie a string to it, or something. Buddy's here."

Harry looked up. The cheerful older man standing at the back of the courtroom waved, and Harry beckoned him up. Buddy came to the bench and Harry said, "Buddy, you old son of a gun. I didn't expect to see you tonight."

"No one ever expects the Spanish Inquistion," said Buddy brightly. Harry's smile froze. "I'm joking. My ethnic heritage is Scotch-Irish, not Spanish. I just thought I'd drop by and say hello. One of my friends from the hospital is visiting me on an overnight pass. I believe you've met him before. Rankin?"

"Rankin, Rankin..." Harry squinted thoughtfully.

Christine came up behind Buddy. "Rankin? You mean that guy who was with you when your group from the hospital decided to take that unscheduled detour into the peep arcade while you were on your field trip to the Dr. Seuss art exhibit at the museum?" Buddy nodded. "The tall one with thick blond hair, sea green eyes, and a body like Jean Claude VanDamme before the coke and debauchery got to him?" Buddy nodded. "I remember him... vaguely."

Roz was standing beside her. She nodded. "Woof!"

Harry scanned the courtroom, frowning. "He's still... uh..."

"Looney tunes? Yes," said Buddy.

Dan chimed in. "I remember him. He's the one who claims to be from the planet Homogenous."

"That's H'molgonis," Buddy corrected him.

"Oh, that's a shame," said Christine. "Why don't they release him? It isn't as if his delusion makes him a danger to himself or others."

"Not as long as he doesn't try to hijack a subway car to fly home," said Dan tartly.

"He wasn't trying to fly home," Buddy protested. "It's just that the only exposure he'd had to the concept of subways was from movies like The Taking of Pelham One, Two, Three and Daylight. He thought that those people were either going to be kidnapped, or trapped. I think they won't release him because they can't find any record of him, and he has absolutely no family."

Harry had been thinking. "Didn't you tell me that he was refusing to take his medication, too?"

"Oh, I was wrong about that."

"Good."

"He takes it--it just doesn't have any affect on him."

"Look, Buddy, why don't you and Rankin stick around till we break for lunch, and join me in the cafeteria?"

Buddy grinned. "Outstanding! We haven't eaten here yet, and Rankin is trying the Jello in as many places as possible." Buddy looked at Roz. "He's dividing them by flavor and consistency. So far the most popular seem to be lime, and 'firm enough to play handball with'."

Roz nodded. "Yeah, it's just not worth it if it goes beyond that to the 'chew it twelve times' stage."

Harry consulted his watch. "Where's Bull? We need to get back on the ball."

"I'll go get him, sir," said Mac. He went to the exit that was closest to the men's room and stepped out, half expecting to find Bull on his way in. He found Bull, all right, but the bailiff wasn't on his way back to court. Or maybe he had been, and had been side tracked. At the moment he was passionately kissing an extremely handsome blond man, who was standing on a bench in order to be at a comfortable level. Mac quietly backed back into the courtroom and went to the bench.

Harry glanced at him. "Well, is he coming?"

Mac started to say something, then stopped, shaking his head. "I ain't Dan Fielding, so I'm not touching that line with a ten foot pole."

Back in the courtroom Buddy was telling Harry, "I hope Bull hasn't gone too far. You know, he and Rankin really bonded. That's the main reason Rankin lobbied so hard to get this pass--so he could see Bull again. He's looking for him now."

Bull entered the courtroom, with Rankin on his heels. Harry said, "There they are. Looks like he found Bull."

"Uh-huh," said Mac. "Out of all the people in the world, they found each other."

Harry waved at Rankin. "Hi. Having a good visit?"

"Yes, thank you," Rankin said cheerfully. "Buddy took me to a movie about someone called Harry Potter." He brayed with laughter.

Christine winced, thinking, *Well, he couldn't be perfect.*

Rankin was continuing. "Entertaining, but what nonesense. The things they had them doing with wands."

"Right," said Christine hopefully. "You know they can't do those things..."

"Everyone knows that you need a matter transmuter to do most of those things." Christine started studying case files. Rankin looked over at Dan, who was watching him as if he were a new and slightly interesting species of bug. "Hi."

Dan held up his hand, palm out, making a V between the middle and third finger in the Vulcan salute. "Klaatu barada nicto."

"Uh... right." Rankin sidled over to Bull and whispered. "Why did he just tell me he has a weasel in his pants?"

"That's Fielding," said Bull. "It's probably just a simple fact." Bull eyed Dan narrowly. "I'd stay away from him."

"Why? Isn't he interested only in the female of your species? That's what I've heard."

"Because with Dan you never can tell. Besides, you don't know where he's been. Have a seat behind the rail, Rankin. I brought lunch, and there's enough for both of us."

Rankin looked serious. "Are you eating like I advised?" Bull nodded, and Rankin brightened. "Good! But Buddy and I passed through the cafeteria, and I saw some Jello I want to try. I've never seen any quite that shade of blue before."

"We can get a table there."

"Great! What did you bring?"

"Your favorite!"

Rankin's expression lit up even more. "Creamy or chunky style?"

"Chunky, of course."

"On cinnamon-raisin bread?"

"What else?"

"And you didn't slice the radishes too thin, did you?"

"No, though I gotta tell you--it gives it a nice crunch, but it makes the sandwiches bumpy."

"You're the best, Bull." He turned and bumped Bull with his elbow.

"Rankin." There was a hint of embarrassed reproof in Bull's voice. Rankin smiled and did it again. "You're so bad. Go sit." Rankin sat down, and Bull noticed Dan staring at him. "I'll have to have another talk with him about public displays of affection."

"You do that," said Mac.

*****

In the cafeteria, Harry, Dan, Christine, Roz, and Buddy were all sitting at one table. Buddy was munching his way through a hamburger, but everyone else was ignoring the food on their plates. They were staring at a small table off to the side where Bull and Rankin were sharing the food that Bull kept pulling out of the grocery sized brown paper sack sitting on the floor beside them. So far they'd had deviled eggs, Ranch style Doritos, and pickled beets, and were working their way through thick sandwiches. "Are they really eating peanut butter and radish sandwiches?" said Christine, disbelieving.

"You weren't here when they started off with the Grape Tang apperitief and sardine and maple syrup appetizer," said Dan.

"Hm," said Buddy. "Maple? Bull usually favors blueberry syrup." He shrugged. "Must be Rankin's civilizing influence."

Christine was looking thoughtful. "Where did he find Grape Tang? I didn't even think they made it any more."

"He stockpiled," said Dan. "Harry, isn't there some sort of statute against grossing people out with your dietary habits in public?"

"If it did you'd be spending time behind bars for that sushi and sashimi the Air Japan hostess brought you last week," said Harry. "Hey, they have pastel colored marshmallows! Do you think they'd share?"

"And they're dabbing them with Nutella," said Christine, interested. "I could get behind that."

"And you people think I'm sick," said Dan.

Bull got up and made his way over to the condiment stand. He returned with several packages. As he came abreast of the table Harry checked out the package and said, "Salsa? That'll go good with the chips."

Bull blinked. "Say, there's an idea. Hey, Rankin, guess what? Salsa isn't just for peanut butter anymore."

"Bull," said Roz. "What are you doin' eating radishes? I remember last Christmas when you snagged some off the crudite platter at the party. Boy, you got more gas than all the refineries in Texas combined."

"So that explains the surgical mask you were wearing around New Years," said Harry. "I thought you were trying to avoid catching the flu. I didn't notice anything."

"You weren't standing right next to him. Why, Bull?"

"Radishes are low in saturated fat and cholesterol," Bull recited. "They're a good source of riboflavin, vitamin B6, Calsium, magnesium copper, manganese, vitamin C, folate, potassium, and dietary fiber." He grimaced. "Boy, that last one sure is true. And the peanut butter is a good source of protien, so the combination works well."

"Particularly at promoting the gag reflex," said Dan.

"Bull," said Christine, "As much as I'm in favor of anyone eating more healthy, what brought this on? I've never noticed you being particularly worried about your nutrition."

"Simple," said Bull. "I'm not just eating for myself. I'm..."

"Bull!" Bull glanced over at Rankin. His friend was giving him a significant look, and shaking his head.

Bull frowned, then continued, "I... uh..." A woman was passing by, leading a small boy. "I'mmmm doing it to set a good dietary example for the little ones." He gave the boy a wide smile. "Always eat your vegetables."

The boy, wide eyed, took a deep breath. He looked up at his mother. "Mommy?"

Straight faced the woman said, "I TOLD you that Santa Claus checks up on you." She winked at Bull and pulled the child away.

Bull continued over to join Rankin. Harry watched them go, frowning. "Is it just me, or does Bull seem, um, close to Rankin?" He watched as Bull popped a Nutella loaded pink marshmallow in Rankin's mouth. Then he used his thumb to wipe a smear of chocolate off the other man's mouth, and licked the chocolate off his thumb, while making eye contact with the smiling blond. "Very close. Perhaps too close for a friend?"

Buddy considered this as he ate a french fry. "You know, Harry, you're right. They are too close for friends." He ate another french fry. "But I'd say they're just right for lovers." Dan, Christine, Mac, Roz, and Harry had all been taking a sip of coffee. Dan, Harry, and Christine all sprayed coffee. "I warned you that pot looked old."

"That wasn't it, Buddy," coughed Harry, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "And I'd like to know why it is that Mac and Roz didn't spray."

Mac shrugged. "Old news to me."

"Since when?" said Christine.

"Let me think." Mac consulted his watch.

"Roz?" said Harry.

"Hell," said Roz, "There ain't much that boy can do that'll surprise me." She took another sip of coffee. "Besides, that pin-up of Orlando Bloom without his shirt that he has on the inside of his locker was a clue."

TBC