"Alright. Now, so what you mean to tell me, that you specifically came back from the dead to prove Mr.Winslow guilty, Mr.Grant?" The judge asked, his voice straining to stay even.

"Yep," The corpse offered. "Now, let just say, that I know that such a situation looks bad. But, I have an explanation."

"Alright," The judge huffs, rubbing his temples. After a moment to steel his resolve, he was ready to deal with one of the most stupid court cases in the American law system.

"Court is now in session. Will the... fuck it, just tell me what happened. I'm so damn hungover, I do not have time to deal with this."

"Alright! To begin, I - John Grant, would like to send myself up as a firsthand witness to the murder!" He exclaims, sneering at Winslow. The judge moves to agree, but Winslow's lawyer interrupts him.

"Your Honor! The defense objects to that!" Winslow's lawyer frantically sputters.

"On what grounds?"

"Uhh... I... Er... His account could be biased!" The lawyer blurts out.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"Granted, on the grounds that he is emotionally invested in his death."

"Well of fucking course! It's my death, of course I'm emotionally invested!"

"Exactly. That's why you can't testify."

"For my own death?" Grant responds, incredulous.

"Yep. And we don't pay the cleaning staff enough to justify fumigating the seat."

The judge and Grant stare at each other for a full 2 minutes. Not a word is exchanged, though Grant does mouth the words "I'll rip your nuts off and shove them so far up your ass you'll legally be a gumball dispenser" and several other, colorful anecdotes.

Winslow's lawyer watches for another moment before shrugging and turning to leave. Winslow grabs him by the arm, trying to stop him.

"No no no, I am not doing another fucking court case involving a living corpse. One time was enough to know that a corpse entering a courtroom only leaves with company. I'm out, write me a check." Winslow's lawyer hurriedly whispers, before running out of the courtroom.

Grant slowly turns to Winslow. "Well, look's like your fucked now, huh?"

"Ah shit," Winslow mutters, drawing his revolver, and aiming at Grant. "Well, if I gonna be convicted, I'm getting my money's worth, you fucking muppet." He seethes.

"Oh for fucks sake!" The jury mutters, drawing a Glock from underneath his desk, and aiming it at Winslow.

"Oh is this happening now?" Grant remarks. "Fuck it, I want in!" pointing finger guns at both the judge and Winslow.

At that moment Winslow had a stroke.

"Shit." Both Grant and the Judge said in unison. The courtroom was left in silence. The next day, the judge filed for retirement.

~~~~~~~~~~

Well, that was weird. - Grant's Tombstone.