Squire sat at his desk listening to Matilda complain about her husband Jimmie. Squire knew what was coming and wasn’t too happy about it. Matilda was going to file for a divorce from Jimmie. It wouldn’t be the first time. She’s divorced Jimmie twice already. They say the third time’s the charm but Squire Davis had his doubts. Maybe he could head this one off.

“Tilde, you’ve married Jimmie three times and divorced him twice. Perhaps you should take some time and think this through before going ahead.”

In a way it didn’t matter since a year from now she’d marry Jimmie again. It cost her money each time but she’s been paying Squire 25 dollars a month for 15 years. It makes a nice, steady little income. Tilde seems to do OK with it. She never misses a payment. Still...

“Nope, my mind’s made up. I want rid of that no account and I mean it this time. We’s done for. You think I don’t know folks calls him Jimmie Nojob? He don’t wanna work no how. He always got an excuse. He was doing real good at Bob’s Burger. He was the French fry manager. Then he was fired. I think he done got it done to him deliberate like.”

“OK, Tilde. Where’s he living right now. I need to notify him of your intent and make sure he won’t be contesting this divorce.”

“Live? He lives at home. Wherdja think he was? Heck, he ain’t got no money to get his own place. If he did I wouldn’t want rid of the bum, now would I?”

“He lives at home and you want a divorce? I guess there isn’t anything in the law that says you can’t do that-”

“Well, I should guess not. I reckon I gots my right as an American to have anyone I wants living in my house.”

Well, Squire thought that one over and realized that was true. Well, he also realized that Matilda and Jimmie made no sense at all. At least in marrying and divorcing each other they aren’t bothering anyone else. Plus, 25 dollars a month is 25 dollars a month.

“OK, Tilde, I get the forms ready for you.”

“Thank you, Squire, you’s a good man.”

Squire Davis left and went over to Land’s End’s Restaurant. He usually had his lunch there with Paulie Williams, the prosecutor, and Judge Hill. Land’s End was the type of place that didn’t ask if you wanted fries with that or if you wanted to supersize it. It had cloth napkins. It had, what for around there, class.

Yesterday they got talking about Mosh Henry. Paulie was complaining that he couldn’t nail Mosh since he could never get a jury to convict Mosh.

“Unless I got only women on the jury I’m never going to get him. Most of the men are his customers.”

Paulie tried to get a change of venue once. The appeals court threw that out. It was one thing for the defense to say they couldn’t get a fair trial in Wasbash County. For the prosecutor to say it made the whole state look silly. They privately told him he’d better not ever try that stunt again.

“Mosh could sell the shine to the Sheriff and I’d never get a conviction. That’s even if our illustrious Sheriff even arrested him, which I doubt”, Paulie went on to complain.

“Oh, Paulie, the Sheriff is OK. Sure, he turns a blind eye to some things, but we don’t really have a lot of problems here”, Judge Hill responded.

That’s right”, Squire Davis added. “The biggest case we get is public intoxication”.

“Yea, and most of that is Mosh’s doing!!!”, Paulie cried.

“Paul, you’re losing your perspective, I think”, Judge Hill responded.

“I know that. Mosh just pisses me off. Well, maybe one day he’ll make a bad batch and poison himself.”

Squire pointed out the fallacy of that way of thinking. Mosh Henry didn’t drink. Mosh Henry considered himself a businessman, pure and simple. Well, maybe not pure. He was pretty simple. Not so simple as to go to prison, though.

Squire Davis’ went back to the office to find Fred Cotton already waiting. Fred took a seat in Squire Davis’ office.

“I want to sue Teech Boom for breakin the zoning regulations”, Fred said without preamble.

Zoning regulations? Where the hell did Fred Cotton hear a phrase like that? Zoning regulations? In Wabash County? This boy’s been watching tv too much.

“Fred, I think you’ve been watching too much television. What’s your problem with Teech Boom?”

“Well, it’s his yard. Here I am tryin to have one of them barbecue things. We get the hotdogs cooked up and we get drinkin beer and what do we see? We see Teech’s backyard. It full of junk. It looks awful. I want somethin done about it.”

“Fred, last time I was out your way I noticed about a half a dozen junk cars in your front yard. I fail to see what your complaint is.”

“Squire, you seem a mite confused here. Ain’t talkin about my front yard. Talkin about Teech Boom’s backyard.”

OK, Squire Davis thought, the law isn’t going to do it. Maybe trying some common sense might.

“Teech Boom is not the kind to rake being sued lightly. You could try a public nuisance suit. God knows he’s a public menace. What do you think Teech is likely to do to you afterward?”

“Well, heck, Squire, it ain’t like I’m gonna tell em. I want one of them class action suits.”

Way too much tv.

“You can’t. Teech will know you filed the suit. Period.”

Freddie Cotton thought that over for a bit.

“Well, then never mind.”