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|Intergalactic Law||Panel One / The four sit at an oblong conference table. JENNY and MR. CCCHH sit on one side, FITZ and MRS. CCCHH sit on the other. JENNY is peering at the screen of a laptop in front of her, Mrs. Ccchh is bored, maybe yawning or inspecting her nails or something. Fitz can’t take his eyes off of her one giant boob. / JENNY: As for the joint account, we want no less than three-quarters of the current balance. / FITZ: They contributed equally to that account. It should be divided equally. / JENNY: Mrs. Ccchh forfeited her rights to equal anything when she tried to eat her husband. / MRS. CCCHH: I didn’t try to eat my husband. It’s a misunderstanding. / Panel Two / JENNY plucks another sheet of paper from the table and reads from it. / JENNY: “I grabbed his arm and bit it off at the shoulder. My tail-mouth gnawed on his leg, just above the knee.” / JENNY: You posted that on your Galacti-Net site. It can be considered a confession. / FITZ: A site called “One Tit Wonder” can hardly be considered infallible. / Panel Three / Mrs. Ccchh’s eyes widen and she bares her teeth in both mouths in fury. Her tail mouth hovers next to her head. / MRS. CCCHH: That site is for my entertainment business. It’s all fictioned up. / JENNY: Fictioned isn’t a word. And, by the looks of it, the only thing that’s fake about the photos is that boob of yours.|
|Intergalactic law||Panel One / Close up of JENNY’s laptop screen, which is now displaying three or four photos involving Mr. and Mrs. Ccchh. There is Mr. Ccchh presenting her with divorce papers. There is Mrs. Ccchh gnawing on her husband. There is Mr. Ccchh running away bleeding while his wife eats his dismembered arm like an ear of corn. / JENNY (off panel): The pics have become quite popular. 10,000 hits in the last cycle alone. / Panel Two / In the background,. Ccchh has dramatically covered his eyes, as it is too painful for him to watch. Mrs. Ccchh is rolling her eye in irritation. In the foreground, Fitz is leaning across the table to JENNY, who is looking smug. / FITZ: (To JENNY) Reminds me of our last vacation. / JENNY: Except I ran off screaming. / FITZ: You overreacted. That woman was there for us. Not just me. / JENNY: Can we just finish this divorce so I can go back to plotting your demise? / Panel Three / They settle back in their chairs as if in a face off. JENNY glares hard at Fitz, ears down. / FITZ: All right, then. We’re not disputing the fact that Mrs. Ccchh attempted to eat her husband. Members of her species commonly end their marriages by devouring their mates. / MRS. CCCHH: I was just doing the natural thing. / MR. CCCHH: Natural? There’s nothing natural about you! Look at the size of that breast! You can barely stand up without tipping over! / Panel Four / The Ccchh’s are standing up over the table and shouting. Mrs. Ccchh has to balance herself on the edge of the table. / MRS. CCCHH: What about you and that comb over? Those spots! Your breath! / MR. CCCHH: I know you never loved me! I was just a meal ticket! (To Fitz) Shut up! I saw that smirk! / MRS. CCCHH: Yeah, I was after your coupons and your soups!|
|Intergalactic Law||Panel One / The Ccchh’s have settled down and refuse to look at one another. / FITZ: Mr. Cchhh, we can’t deny that Mrs. Cchhh has shown goodwill in providing you with your prosthetic mechantacle. / MR. CCCHH. It’s Ccchh. You said Cchhh. / FITZ: It sounds the same. / Panel Two / Mrs. Ccchh is standing up, supporting herself on the table again, while Mr. Ccchh engaged Fitz. / MR. CCCHH: “Cchhh” translates to “Midget Slime Sucker”. “Ccchh” means “Peaceful Warrior”. It’s totally different. / MRS. CCCHH: I told you “Peaceful Warrior” doesn’t make any sense! / MR. CCCHH: Having a mouth on your tail doesn’t make any sense! / Panel Three / Mrs. Ccchh is climbing over the table to get to her husband. Her tail mouth is drooling. Mr. Ccchh is cowering away. Through the windows behind the table, something that looks like a walking octopus is visible. / FITZ: I move to adjourn until we get Vger in here to arbitrate. / JENNY: Agreed. / Panel Four / At that point, a huge mechantapus bursts into the conference room. He should have eight arms, but one of his sockets is empty and jagged, as if someone ripped, or chewed, the tentacle from him. He points a tentacle at Mrs. Ccchh, whose mouth gapes in horror. / SEPTAPUS: That woman stole my arm!|
|Intergalactic Law||Panel One / Intergalactic law reception area. The Ccchh deposition is visible in the background. The receptionist, Dulie, answers phones with one face and talks to Quieghel (off panel) with the other. / DULIE 1: Ginsberg, Quieghel and Stein, thank you for holding. / DULIE 2: Mr. Quieghel, 8 showed up, but I only have resumes on 6. / DULIE 1: No, Mr. Stein has not reconstituted himself yet. / Panel Two / Quieghel leans against the desk, shuffling through a stack of resumes. In the background Ccchh deposition, the mechanical septapus has pinned Mr. Ccchh on the conference table and has grasped the prosthetic mechantacle. / QUIEGHEL: None of them seem qualified. Waitress. Dancer. Alien drone? What does that mean? / D2: Sounds like another term for “bum”. / D1: We saw his torso in Ginsberg’s office two days ago, but nothing since then. / D1: Whatever dimension he’s in, we’re sure he’s working on your case. That’s why we’re still billing you. / Panel Three / In the background, the mechanical spetapus has reclaimed his stolen mechantacle and holds it aloft in triumph. / D2: Do you want to bother with this group, or take out another ad? / QUIEGHEL: No. Maybe in person one of them will show some promise. / Panel Four / The job candidates are lined up in the waiting area. It’s three big titted hot chicks, a giant slug, Harry Knewsence, Kevin Lurkrats, the Alien alien, and Mork’s retarded cousin. / QUIEGHEL (off panel): Or not.|
|intergalactic Law||Queighel is interviewing the candidates. Queighel is off panel asking each candidate the interview questions. / Panel One / One of the hot chicks. Big hair, giant boobs, you know the type. / QUEIGHEL: What type of legal experience do you have? / HOT CHICK: Ummm. . . I dated a cop for a while. / Panel Two / The “Alien” alien / QUEIGHEL: You history indicates that you don’t work well with others. Why do you think you’ll fit in here? / ALIEN: My therapist said being around people will help me practice my anger management skills. / QUEIGHEL: How is that working out for you? / ALIEN: I want to kill you. / Panel Three / Harry Knewsence / QUEIGHEL: Harry, are you able to be objective and evaluate events for what they are and not what you wish they were? / HARRY: No. / Panel Four / Sluggie Sluggo / QUEIGHEL: Can you control the slime trail? / SLUGGO: You’re the lawyer. Can you control yours?|
|Intergalactic Law||Panel One / At the reception desk. Five of the job candidates are in the waiting area. Harry and Kevin are at opposite ends, looking intently at the laptops balanced on their enormous, hairy knees. Mork’s cousin’s finger is still up his nose. The “Alien” alien is turned toward Sluggo, and is drooling as well. Sluggo stares right back. / SLUGGO (to Alien): You could use a mint. / MORK’S COUSIN: Noona! Noona! / QUEIGHEL (off panel): Where did those three women get off to? / Panel Two / Queighel is standing in front of the job candidates. / QUEIGHEL: Thank you all for your time today. It was a pleasure learning about each of you. These three positions are difficult to fill, and unfortunately, at this time we can’t offer any of you- / FITZ (off panel): Your standards should be more flexible, Queighel. / Panel Three / Fitz has entered the reception area, the three hot chicks hanging all over him. / FITZ: I took the liberty of hiring these three remarkable young ladies. / QUIEGHEL: Dulie, we’re going to need to get that sexual harassment workshop in here again.|
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