The Last Straw

“The court would like to remind you that your are under no obligation to testify in your own defense, but you are under oath. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your honor I do.”

“Alright then. Councilor, your witness.”

“Would you please tell the court, in your own words, what happened the evening of October 3 this year?”

“Yes. I shot my roommate’s boyfriend.”

“Order! Order in the court!”

“But he had it coming!”

“Order! There will be no further outbursts or I will clear the room. Councilor please continue.”

“And can you tell us why you felt justified to carry out this extreme act?”

“Well…I guess it started when I found my nylons were not lasting as long as they should. They were getting runs almost the second time I put them on. Of course at first I thought it was just bad luck. Defective product, you know? But then I started realizing that in addition to being laddered, the knees were all baggy. Now I ask you, do these legs look like they would create baggy-kneed nylons?”

“Objection your honor!”

“Sustained. The witness will remain seated and refrain from showing the jury her legs.”

“Oh! – uh sorry your honor”

“Please continue”

“Right. So. Then I realized that my good bottle of perfume was not always in the same place I like to keep it, so I started locking it up. Just in case. Then when I went to get ready to go to the theater, my favorite necklace was not only in the wrong drawer in my jewelry box, but the latch was broken.

“You shot him for a broken necklace?”

“Oh no. But I started asking questions. My roommate was careful to tell me that she did not wear the necklace, or the nylons, and had not touched my perfume. But something about the way she told me just didn’t feel right. So I bought a hidden camera. Sure enough, the very next day I taped her boyfriend going through my stuff; trying on necklaces and bracelets, pawing through my lingerie. I guess my stuff was more his size. Anyway, she had told me a few weeks before that he was a dancer. I thought she meant like in a Broadway show or something. But when I saw him with my stuff, I confronted her. It turns out that he is – or was - working at a drag show.”

“So you shot him just because he was working in a drag show?”

“Noooo. I didn’t mind that he was using my jewelry – in fact I would have gladly loaned him my stuff if he had only asked nicely. No, I got really angry when I taped him trying on a very expensive cocktail dress and in the process rip out one of the side seams.”

“So you shot him for ruining the dress?”

“No! I draw the line at my shoes! The last straw was when he came home wearing my favorite pair of Christian Louboutins.

That’s when I shot him.”

The End