There are four judges with chambers in my office, but there are five judges who report for work every morning. New Jersey requires its judges to retire at the age of seventy. It's constitutional, you see. But the court's calendar is an unforgiving mistress and she doesn't make allowances for illness, family leave, or other absence on the part of her judges. Therefore a system of recall has been implemented in which retired judges are called back into service for limited periods of time. All in slavish service to the calendar.

One of the most respected jurists in New Jersey history, Judge Magoo, retired a good many years back and is spending a large portion of this term on recall. He works out of the library. He likes to say he has the largest office of all the judges.

My judge has a large corner office which opens onto an antechamber where the clerks sit. Beyond that is reception where the secretary sits. Though we can be easily heard throughout the chambers, Gina and I cannot see either the secretary or the judge from our desks.

Last week, my co-clerk and I were sitting at our desks working under a swiftly approaching deadline, when we heard the most disturbing sound coming from Ellen's direction.

Braaappppptttt.

Gina and I looked at each other. There was a shared moment in which we both decided to ignore it. But as grown up as we like to think we are, it's often impossible to ignore farting sounds. We wordlessly went back to work.

BRRRRRRAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTT! BRAPT. BRRRAAAPPPTT. BBBBBBRRRRAAPPT!

We put our pencils down and wheeled our chairs closer together. Gina put her hand over her mouth to cover a laugh.

"Oh, God," Ellen moaned quietly. "Oh, God. I'm so sick." Brapt, Brapt, Brapt, BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAPPPPTTT! Brapt. "Oh, God."

I stood up and moved around to the door and carefully peaked around the corner. I saw Ellen with her head down on her desk and her ass hanging over her chair, one cheek lifted for easier farting.

"Oh, God, my God in Heaven," she moaned. BBBBBRRRRAAAAAAPPPPPPTTT!

"Are you ok?" I asked.

She started laughing. "What took you so long?" She sat up straight and produced a small electronic devise that was producing those odd biological sounds.

Gina was right behind me. "It's you. That's what took us so long. If we've learned anything about this job it's not to trust you."

Later in the afternoon it started again. Brapt BBBBRRRappptt. Brapt brrraaapppttt.

"Ellen," I yelled. "I really have a lot to do here."

bbbbbrrrrAAAAPPPPPTTT!

"This is really a bad time. I'm up against a deadline here, Ellen. We can play around later."

Brapt brapt brapt bbbrraappttttttt brapt

I stood up and rounded my desk. "Look, Ellen, just give me the fart machine, ok? Just gimme it. Hand over that fart machine right�"

I reached the door and looked around the corner. Ellen was not at her desk. Judge Magoo was standing there stapling papers and dropping farts like bread crumbs to be followed later. There was a smell, a stench really, filling reception.

"Oh. Hi judge." I was trying to cover.

"Brian," he said in greeting.

I took my seat behind my desk and resumed my work.

BBBBBRRRRAAAAAPPPPTTTT!

I ignored it. As the judge walked away, stapled papers in hand, a short brapt could be heard receding into the distance with every footfall.

Posted at 11:16 a.m.

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