A PreEnactment

Open to an interrogation room lit only by a single overhead bulb. There is no natural light. Only a single table with two folding chairs. The walls are concrete. The floor is that weird sticky tile we all had in our kitchens growing up. Linoleum. Yeah, Linoleum. Perfect for cleaning up vomit and lazy children.

At the table sit two people. An overweight middle-aged "cop" type who is actually a 25 year old junior attorney with a firm out of Tempe, AZ. But he is totally prematurely balding. And wearing a cheap suit. We'll call him Bob. 

Delicate flower of lady. Smart, but not overstated. Sexy, but in a closeted, no-one-at-all-ever-thinks-of-her-as-sexy sort of way. We'll call her Mel. 

Bob (stern): Mel, where were you on the day of June 8, 2011. 

Mel (strong... almost snotty): What day would that be? 

Bob (irritated): I just said.. June 8, 2011. 

Mel (stronger... definitely snotty): Right, but I mean... a Wednesday... a Sunday? 

Bob (fumbling with papers): Oh. Hang on.... ummmm... A week day. I'm sure it was one of the Mon to Fri days. 

Mel: I was probably at work then.

Bob: Do you recognize this contract? 

Mel (wavering): Yeah. That's the agreement for the Sausage Factory*. I wrote that.

Bob: Why? 

Mel (sobbing): I'm sorry, but it was my job. I tried to tell them it was a bad idea to ask the Cupcake Maker to make sausage but they told me to!

Bob (gloating): This is a violation of he Separation of Sausage and Cake Act of 1848. You know this is an offense punishable by 12 years in prison and a lifetime of sausage making. 

Mel (hysterical): Oh god no! I didn't know. It's just a contract for sausage. I'm (mostly) a vegetarian. I can't make sausage!

Bob (self-satisfied): Put your hands behind your back. 

Mel (barely understandable): But you're a lawyer. You can't arrest me. And your suit is stupid. 

Bob: You're going away for a looong time, missy. And my suit is awesome. 

***

Two uniformed officers come into the room. Mel passes out under the stress and the officers drag her by her feet... laughing at how funny her hair looks dragging behind her. **

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The company I work for is being sued and I have been told I will be deposed. It is a civil case based on contract disputes. There have been no crimes actually committed or even alleged, but you'd think there were the way the lawyers are sending nasty letters to each other.

You're ugly and mean!

Well, you're ugly, mean and stupid!

There are things that make me anxious that, while silly and frivolous, I can still rationalize. Yes, flying IS safer than driving, but driving is not 30,000 feet in the air. So there. Neurosis wins.

This deposition? Not a courtroom. Not criminal. And I'm not accused of anything except knowing stuff. Which I do know. I know all sorts of stuff. Why am I terrified?

What if I start to answer, but then I think of a better answer and I'm a terrible witness. You know I can't remember what I had for breakfast much less something that happened 3 years ago. 

What if they're mean to me and I cry? 

What if they're mean to me, I cry, and then they're even MEANER to me?

What if I accidentally confess to a crime and end up in jail? 

And/or... if I confess to a crime, do you think they'll stop asking me questions and I can just go home? 

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*I do not write contracts for sausage or baked goods, but that would be awesome. I wonder how often bakers get deposed. 

** I do not think that police would do that. I respect their profession greatly and am super glad they're around. 

*** If you didn't listen to every single "dun dun" then you are not my friend and you hope I go to jail and have to make sausage. You are mean.