“You are guilty,” Judge Arundel bellowed, “of banging my gavel.”
“Objection, Your Honor,” ADA Franks replied, bending over. “Move to strike.”
“Your briefs are definitely out of order.”
She cooed, looking back. “And the jury is well hung.”
Bradford sighed, setting his pen down. He didn’t know how they made state, but high-schoolers shouldn’t write their own dramatic duo.
K: Oh boy…I could tell you a lot of weird stories about high school speech, which is one of the saddest things to which I ever gave significant time. As it happens, I DID typically do dramatic duo. This is pretty fun, in its way, as it has a bunch of eye-rollers leading to a good reason for them to exist. SILVER
MD: I was going to roll my eyes if it was going to turn out to be an out-and-out sex joke. Then it turned into a sex joke written by teenagers, and it was slightly more entertaining. The downfall? The name “Arundel” just made me think of Arendelle, and now it’s STUCK IN MY HEAD AGAIN. “Arendelle’s in deep, deep, deep, deep…snow.” BRONZE
W: I was getting pretty annoyed with the cheesy dialogue, so I’m glad Bradford was, too! I can only imagine Bradford having to score a whole bunch of godawful stories while remaining sane and trying to provide some constructive feedback. BRONZE
Not my strongest week, but it was enough to launch me into third place in the standings with three weeks left. I was a high-school speech judge one year, though I was never given dramatic duo. But I judged some bizarre prose and great speeches rounds.