Caricature

The cartoon was done in a rush, she didn't have time to think about
it much. President Hudanga, widely regarded as corrupt, had promised to
take ten pence off tax. So she showed President Hudanga taking ten
pence off "TAX", and putting it into his pocket. The caption read
"Robbing Hud'". The caricature of the President was a perfect send-up,
brilliantly highlighting his large, lobeless ears, his tiny pig nose
and his grubby little hands. She had thought it quite amusing.

So had most the office. It got passed round by her co-workers, glad to
see anything undermining their overbearing political leader. A few
chuckles resulted. That sound had always reassured her, gave her
confidence.

Her editor had found it less humorous. He looked at it seriously,
unsure what to do with it. What weighted his judgement in the end was
the five minute deadline, and the five by seven inch space that needed
to be filled. She always handed her work in late. It was the only way
she could get put straight in, as it was. Her editor hadn't yet caught
on.

Obviously, the government didn't see the joke. They never could, that
was their problem. They always took themselves far too seriously.

And the judge - the judge sitting in front of her now, reading out her
sentence as she sat behind a bench with her government appointed
attorney metres away from her government appointed prosecutor - clearly
he didn't find it very funny at all.

"Emily Haiha, you have brutally and savagely attacked the institutions
of our fair state, you have shown utter disrespect ..."

But she wasn't going to think about that right now.

Instead she thought back to the office Christmas party. It was quite
literally that, they couldn't afford to hire anywhere out. The Gazette
was considered at the time a second rate paper and not widely read.
That was before the current regime.

The office was small, but they had made a good job of it! Colourful
paper chains went from wall to wall. The political editor had brought
in a Christmas tree, and decorated it with gold tinsel and silver
chocolate money. A boy who cleaned the office had brought his stereo
and a collection of tapes, god knows how he afforded it. Of course,
everyone brought alcohol.

She had gulped down a few whisky and cokes, then a few whiskies, and
was feeling rather pissed. Not unlike the present moment. When she got
like this, she had always found the best tactic to sit down and be
quiet for as long as she could. Otherwise she would end up getting off
with the sports correspondent again and that always caused
embarrassment. Fortunately she had manage to slip into a small circle
of colleagues sitting round the editors desk. She had grabbed and
stumbled into the last seat, and was treated to a sideways glance by a
woman she didn't recognise, who looked slightly drunk herself.

It turned out the deputy editor had invited his wife, a pompous woman,
daughter of a rich farmer. She didn't see the need for her husband to
be working in such a place, but she read the papers like everyone else
Curiosity got the better of her. Besides she clearly enjoyed getting
the chance to tell people her opinions.

Wonderful work you do here, she had said, wonderful! A valuable public
service. Barring of course, the cartoons: at best they're crude and at
worst darn right rude!

Emily had then perked up: Yes! The cartoonist should be hung! which
caused a certain amount of mirth. The woman looked at her in utter
confusion until her husband whispered in her ear. She had then treated
Emily to the most hideously understated look of disgust, understated
because it had that air that said Emily was not worth the effort it
took to look properly disgusted. There wasn't a smile, wasn't an
apology, no acknowledgement it was quite good of Emily to take it all
in good cheer.

Of course the irony of the whole event wasn't lost on Emily now.

"It is hereby the judgement of the state that you be sentenced
to..."

That woman was a bitch, how dare she?

It then occurred to Emily that perhaps her sense of humour, to hell
with it her whole take of the world, was just somehow different. Still,
she could at least have grinned a little.

No sense of humour whatsoever.

Emily clenched her fist around the coolness of the ten pence, the very
same ten pence she had used to help her draw the cartoon. She had kept
it with her, as a private symbol of the contempt she held this court
in. Held this court in contempt! Her hand became white as she clenched
harder and harder, her nails digging into her skin. Perhaps it was
better to, yes, to let go. The ten-penny dropped. That was word-play.
It didn't mean anything though. It needed context, it needed timing.
Perhaps if she had dropped it earlier, yes a few moments ago. No humour
would have been added, though maybe a little drama would have been put
into the proceedings. She didn't care much for that. She had always
preferred comedy to tragedy.

She looked at the face of the coin. Face indeed! It had landed heads.
Off, off with their heads! Off with her... The face, the face of
President Hudanga. Robbing Hud', Robbing Hud' riding through the Glenn!
His face, the little pig nose, the big lobeless ears. You hardly needed
a caricature.

"This sentence will be carried out immediately. If you have anything
you wish to say, I suggest you say it now."

Looking at the coin, at that ridiculous visage, what else could she do?
What else could she do but laugh? A loud full bellied laugh that echoed
round the court room. A laugh so loud it very near drowned out the
banging of hammers. A laugh so loud it almost masked the footsteps
drawing closer.

What else could she do?