At first, John T. Bog Esq, felt it was a truck powerfully loaded with an old generator that was carting itself through Hall-street. But at least, it wasn’t like those almost expired machines known by Hall-street for emitting carbon every morning into the atmosphere. John fastened his brown iris neighboring a black brow on the Japanese product keeping track on the passage still, wondering why on earth such a noble had to sit his noble buttocks on such a machine which is the direct opposite of anything noble.
“My gosh! This is an ignominy”, John said to Justina J. Justice who announced and entered appearance with the name Justitia C. Luke. To her, there was no need maintaining the long chain of alliteration. It was at least fine that she could answer a surname which was her Uncle’s and as well the name of the Legal lady who always stood with a sword and a balanced scale.
“What kind of a question is that? Do you need anyone to tell you that the grass is green?” replied John with a smile of mockery sitting on his face.
“Why on earth should a bib leave the comfort of a four-wheel drive and fly without wings on a two-wheel drive polluting the air instead of conditioning it?”
Justitia had no reason to trade many words with John who had had a good time battling with pride. To Justitia, it was not the pride of the profession that has eaten him up, but his own pride. She wondered why some wigs dwelt in so fat a falsehood.
“Take my words, young man while we wait for a four-wheel drive that is not ours. We have been standing on this path for minutes waiting for perhaps a drunken keke driver who will have pity on us to accept our T-fare and get us to the Area Court before noon. I guess that polluter with a natural wig has already moved passed us for minutes gone! Perhaps he has gotten to his destination. Is he not better than us who have no wheels? He is even better than that learned Silk who was asked to apologize at the mercy of the LPDC. The nobility of the profession speaks more of morals, my dear. If that man with the natural wig has been able to keep the record straight, who are you to judge him? Free yourself of this much pride and enter the keke before you”.
John’s pride for the first time got tamed by words. How can a folk who has no wheels treat with contempt he who has? The sarcasm finds no place in reasoning.
Soon the folks alighted the tricycle, entered the court, and found out that their case had already been mentioned. John got more sobered after he heard that the opposite counsel was the man with the natural wig. The man with the natural wig had arrived court thirty minutes before them.
“Thank you for fixing a date on our behalf. I will also like to know how much that Japanese product cost. I think I need one”, said John.
John smiled admiring the wheels as the bib flew for a second time in his sight with a zooming that can’t be zoomed.
There is no pride in this. There is no pride anywhere. The legal pride is more of what is moral and proper and not what is big for the bog. If it is unprofessional for a wig to ride a bike, then it is equally unprofessional to sit in a tricycle. This was the message learnt by John from the man with the natural wig. Nobility is never a sermon for madness and pretence; it is rather a sermon of integrity and honesty. Yet, to John, the man with the natural wig should have mounted the seat without the legal apron. To him, the “Robing rooms” are for robing and not roaming. This was his reserve even though he asked for the price of the Japanese product.