This is really hard, because I can’t seem to get the actual movie’s story line out of my head!

“The truth doesn’t have versions, okay?” the grizzled D.A. boomed at the cowering witness, a mousy 30-something local librarian. D.A. Jones looped his thumbs into his vest and spun on his heel to face the jury.

“Now, you told us before that you saw the defendant in the library last Thursday, correct?”

“Yes, sir, that is correct.”

“Was he with the victim?”

“Yes, sir, he was.”

“Now, tell us, as best as you can, what they were doing.”

“They were looking at books.” She said. He rocked back on his heels, waiting for her continue. She stared mutely at her fidgeting hands.

“And I say this from the deepest part of my heart. What are you WAITING for? Please continue!”

“Well, there’s nothing more to say…”

“Ahh, no further questions!” he dismissed her with a disgusted wave of his hand.

“Side bar, counsellor!” The black female judge was known for her scathing admonition of court room bullying. He gritted his teeth and approached the bench.

“This case is going to be thrown out of my courtroom if you don’t get a decent witness on that stand by this afternoon. I just don’t understand the basis of the peoples’ claim against this defendant…I’m lilke the dumb girl that doesn’t get it. I’ve never been the dumb girl before. It ain’t great. Now get your act together, or dump the case!” She leaned toward him, her hand covering the mike.

“Yes, your honor, I’m sure you’ll see where I’m going with this eventually.” His voiced was laced with sarcasm.

“I’m sure you meant that as a compliment, counselor!”

“Absolutely, what else could I have meant.”

He stepped back from the bench and boomed “The People call O.J. Simpleson!”

An orange-haired wiry fellow who bore an uncanny resemblance to Carrot Top, ambled to the witness stand.

“Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God.”

“I ain’t God, but yeah. Truth.. It’s my new thing. I’ve gotten abnormally brilliant at it.” he replied.

The D.A. shot him a ferocious look. But this was his key witness, so he cultured his cooperation.

“State your name for the record.”

“O.J. Simpleson.”

“Good afternoon, O.J., you don’t mind if I call you O.J.? I expect you’re finding yourself well?”

“Well, I’m doing just fine, so you don’t have to work that shift anymore! I’ll tell ya what ya need to know.”

The D.A.’s color rose, his cheek twitched, apoplexy bubbling through his veins.

“Let’s cut to the proverbial chase, shall we? Tell us in as much detail as possible your version of the events leading up to the demise of the victim last Thursday. You do know the victim, Anna Nicole, yes?”

“Oh sure, she’s uh, she was a hottie.”

“THE STORY, O.J.!”

“Uh, can I email it to ya when I figure it out?”

D.A. Jones lunged for O.J.’s throat, throwing himself over the rail boxing the witness chair. Judge Aretha banged the gabble…”Contain him…GUARDS!” She barked.

The guards wrestled the D.A. down and hoisted back into the Judge’s chambers. He sat down and waited. Judge Aretha busted into the room and dismissed the guards.

“Well, whadidya think of that one?” D.A. Jones laughed.

“Hmmm, come over here, you big bag of hot air….”

“Ooooo, your HONOR!” he grinned.