9 There’s A Tear In My Beer

Mr. Coffee: While this is not your typical romantic tale like all the others… with friends like these, who needs love?

Miles Edgeworth was working late Thursday evening and was so wrapped up in his paperwork that he didn’t even notice the first round of loud, persistent rapping on the door. He assumed it was the tree branch outside tapping on his window – after all, who on earth besides the workaholic Prosecutor would still be at the office at 8:30 at night?

Then he heard the knocking sound again, melodically and rhythmically this time to the distinctive sound of “Shave and a Haircut.”

Edgeworth sighed. There was only one person who would need to announce his presence to him in such an obnoxious, unignorable manner.

“What do you want, Larry?”

Larry Butz stuck his head in the door, his customary goofy grin in place.

“How did you know it was me, Edgy?” He turned around to the person standing behind him. “Hey, Nick, I think Edgey here is psychic! Maybe Maya’s ESPN is rubbing off on him!”

“Larry, how many times do I have to tell you, it’s ESP, not ESPN! And for the millionth time, Maya having spirit medium abilities isn’t the same as being clairvoyant!”

I detest talking of supernatural drivel. I suppose now he’ll say she has midi-chlorians? Edgeworth smirked to himself and put down his pen. Wright is with The Butz too? Oh, is going to be a real pip!

An eager-faced Larry, followed by a somewhat sheepish-looking Phoenix, entered the office.

“I told you he’d still be here, Nick!” Larry grinned at the unsmiling legist, who was eyeing the two unannounced arrivals with his usual arms crossed, finger-tapping posture. “Nick here thought you’d have gone home and might be in bed when you didn’t answer your cell phone, but I figured no way would you that much of a lame old man … I mean, it isn’t even nine!”

That’s because I had my phone turned on silent, after your ridiculous midnight call last night…

“What do you want, Butz?” Edgeworth asked brusquely, interrupting his friend mid-ramble.

“Larry tried to call me last night to come and hang out, because he was feeling alone and mopey, and I, um, missed his call.” Phoenix smiled awkwardly. “So, he’s persuaded me to ah, make it up to him by going out to the bar with him tonight. We were hoping you’d want to join us?”

“No,” Edgeworth replied curtly, turning back to his paperwork in dismissal of the matter.

“No?” The bemused defense attorney echoed blankly. “What do you mean no?”

“Yeah, why, Edgey?” Larry’s lip trembled, as if on cue. “How come you don’t ever want to hang out with meee…?”

Because you’re a kyoodling crybaby even when you’re sober! The prosecutor grumbled crossly to himself. However, you regress into an eternal sniveling human water fountain whenever you’ve had so much as one beer in you! The only thing more insufferable is the fact that on top of being a compulsive blubberer, you’re also a needy hugger! And when you’re caught in a crying Larry Butz hug there is zero chance of escape!

“Larry, do you recall the last time I took pity on you and let you drag me to a bar after Jenny Tayla dumped you?” Edgeworth scowled at the memory. “You enfolded me into one of your sobbing, vociferous, suffocating embraces for the whole night! Moreover, you left such a huge tear-stained mess of my suit jacket that I needed to get it dry-cleaned!”

“Come on Edgeworth, don’t be such an unfeeling android!” Phoenix coaxed. “Larry told me it’s the anniversary of the death of Cindy Stone and he’s been feeling extra lonely. Have a heart!”

He stared beseechingly at the prosecutor, the expression in his eyes as clear as day: Please don’t leave me alone with him!

Nobody loves me!” Larry wailed self-pityingly as his trademark tears flooded his eyes. “I’m so unlucky! First with the ladies, then the law, and now my bestie rejects me again – two nights in a row!”

Edgeworth refused to be cozened.

“Cease this cockamamie nonsense, you fool! Did it ever occur to you that perchance you wouldn’t have suffered a murder rap for that strumpet if you weren’t always so pathetically, predictably incontinent whenever you’re around anything in a skirt?”

“Now that’s just cruel!” Larry’s weeping immediately ceased as he affected his most wounded expression. “I stopped needing to wear pull-up diapers when I was five, I’ll have you know!”

“Well, actually, Larry, there was that one bed-wetting incident that time you guys slept over at my house back in fourth grade…” Phoenix recalled, tapping his chin. “Still, Edgeworth, I don’t think our buddy’s supposed inability to hold his bladder is the reason for his misfortune with the ladies…”

Evidently, common sense does not register, even as a blip, on either one of their radars! Edgeworth closed his eyes and heaved an exasperated sigh. Why must I always be surrounded by such impenitent fopdoodles?

Then, without another word, he reached into his drawer, pulled out his Webster’s Dictionary, thumbed through it rapidly until he found the page he was seeking, then slammed the open book atop his desk with a heavy thud, before stalking out of his office, leaving his two dumbfounded friends staring after him before they glanced down at the indicated page.

“I can’t believe that guy!” Larry whined, his eyes tearing up as he read the description. “Why does Edgey always have to be such a plus 10 on the meanie meter?!”

Glancing down at the definition, Phoenix barely resisted a rueful chuckle at the clever panache behind the intended slur about The Butz’s incorrigible poon-houndery.

Mean or not… Edgeworth’s not exactly wrong, is he?


Heart-Warming Java Shots Copyright © by JordanPhoenix. All Rights Reserved.

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