Dinner Allegations

The docket is called to hold court on the round; the honorable judge presides, crisply stuffed in his gown,

Banging gavel drumsticks in tandem, to the call for "Order!" on the grounds.

That crispy judge sits high on his China seat, observing litanies of complaints of cooked crudités' melee.

For the peas roll around in curious formations. They cast to and fro on plates of white porcelain. A fluffy bailiff halts their erratic processions, with creamy tuber mounds whipped into submission.

All the while, liquidy lawyers, slick in their observations, flow freely throughout the scene, refraining from interrogation.

The judge, still banging his drumstick in warning to a-peas, brings order to the court, and to those wayward detainees.

Sticky orange jurors honeyed to sweeten their repose, soften their reprieve of deliberations in their rows.

The buttered bread was laid down to offer up carte blanche, for those unruly crudités who refuse to keep order, and they do mock.

The court will soon be over, once the witness takes the stand, to put an end to this trial session, when he takes the fork in his hand.

With the torts now sussed to fullness, the witness is excused. He retires to his bedroom, for he will take a snooze.