"In the case of love against hate, the courtroom appoints Ms. Jane Dora to the stand. Ms. Dora, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and you affirm this on your time and age on Earth?"
"I do. From now on I'd prefer you to address me as Ms. Jane Doe. Ms. J. Dora, and I are no longer on generous terms."
"Oh . . . oh? OK, Ms. Jane Doe, you may have seat. If I may enquire, why elect such a name as Doe to solace your identification?"
"Doe is short-changed for the enigma, the screen from the illume, the diffident, the prosecutor, the monstrosity, the windshield. I used to be the sinner your book of riddles warned your fugitive hearts about."
"And what is this book of riddles, Ms. Doe?"
"Your bibles. The Bible!"
"Thank you for that description, Ms. Doe. The courtroom and I have two questions: Where did you hide Ms. Jane Dora and why are you upholding a firm stand for society to prosecute the prosecutor that had onetime prosecuted your childhood?"
"One, I locked Dora far away inside a burning vault. I'm punishing the fornicator for being such an immoral bitch. And numeral two, I should be Daddy's spicy princess, not that fish. Her pumps are always thirsty for more. When Dora bawled her lungs out for a new car, a yacht, a mansion, a sexual desire, the creep would stop at nothing to make her happy."
"Daddy . . . you're implying husband, not your biological dad-correct me if I'm wrong?"
"Cockamamie Wabbit . . . ha-ha-ha-wouldn't you wish to know. My husband-naughty boy. Anyways! Daddy travels lots for work, some days he'll travel for weeks, and from weeks the a-hole would travel for months. A girl has needs and contained emotions that reduced her in solitariness. So, Dora met a chap, a towering, handsome and well-equipped fellow. Months expired, and without Daddy's knowledge Dora became pregnant from their sexual fiesta. We managed to maintain the secret from him for months by assisting her in wearing thick layers under her apparel whenever he decided to come home."
What do you intend by saying 'we'?"
"Do you think I'm the only one inside holding Dora hostage? Think again. Anyway, Dora gave birth to a baby girl inside the bathtub on a Monday morning at 1:30 a.m. We carefully picked the cosset out the grime water and wrapped him a blanket, and headed to the train track. The train had a 2 a.m. run."
"And what's next?"
"We . . . we . . . she . . ."
To be continued . . .
