Ellen, who functions as the Judge's right arm, is well aware of the Judge's pretzel preference and so a couple of years ago she started picking up enormous three pound bags of pretzels at the Price Club. We go through about two bags a month. Over at the coffee station there is a tin and every morning (or periodically throughout the day if necessary) Ellen dutifully cleans it out and refills it with pretzels from the enormous bag.
Now, these are Ellen's pretzels. She pays for them, she runs to the Price Club to get more, she maintains the tin. They belong to her. When she started this whole pretzel enterprise she intended to provide pretzels for our chambers, that is Judge Selma, the two clerks, Ilene, and herself.
Shortly after the arrival of the pretzels Judge Killmenow noticed them as she passed the chambers in the hall. "Oooooh! Pretzels!" I imagine she said. "I don't mind if I do!"
Since that day Judge Killmenow, who has a sense of entitlement because after all they're just pretzels and she's a judge of the Appellate Division and Ellen is a mere secretary, has not passed our chambers without stopping by the pretzel tin. This has become Ellen's greatest pet peeve.
Not that the way Judge Killmenow comports herself with regard to these pretzels wouldn't annoy even the most patient of us. I have seen the judge pick out the last couple of pretzels, and pour the salty crumbs from the bottom of the tin into her mouth with her head upturned and her mouth open like a baby bird anxiously awaiting a little mamma bird regurgitation. I have seen her shake the empty tin in Ellen's face, wordlessly demanding it be refilled. I have seen her scoop up great enormous handfulls of pretzels, drop a few along the path to her desk, return to get the pretzels off the floor and eat them in an apparent effort to avoid wastefulness. And most astoundingly, I have seen her deny that she eats pretzels. "Too many carbs!" Judge Killmenow will announce. "I never touch the things. I'm watching my figure."
With her, it is a psychosis. There is a story that goes around the chambers like a localized urban legend of a clerk in years past who knew Judge Killmenow's passion for pretzels on account of Ellen's complaining. The chambers has a multi-faith Holiday party with a gift exchange in December. This clerk drew Judge Killmenow's name so he went to some kind of specialty shop and bought the judge a barrel of beautiful sourdough pretzels. The complicated thought process behind such a gift went something like this: since she likes pretzels, I'll get her pretzels as a gift. When she opened her present, legend has it that the Judge became very offended, turned bright red, and began yelling obscenities at the gift giver.
"Who the hell do you think you are, giving me so many pretzels? I'm a judge! Do I look like some kind of fatty who eats pretzels all day? Do I? I don't know who you think you are, but I'm here to shatter your illusions and tell you that you're a carrion eating insect not fit to nestle yourself into a piece of my shit. I. AM. NOT. FAT!"
When I first arrived in the chambers, Ellen's enormous bag of pretzels were kept in a file cabinet drawer very near Ellen's desk. One night, however, Judge Killmenow got a pretzel jonez after Ellen and the rest of us in Judge Selma's chambers had gone home for the evening. She used her master key to enter the chambers and upon finding the tin empty, opened and slammed every file cabinet drawer in an effort to locate Ellen's stash. Once she found the bag, she absconded with it.
The next morning when Ellen went to fill the pretzel tin, she discovered, naturally, that the bag was missing. Judge Killmenow's secretary told us what had happened, which caused Ellen to go into a fury. She steamed and stamped all morning. After lunch she finally went over to confront Judge Killmenow who claimed both innocence and ignorance of the event. It seems she had replaced the pretzel bag while Ellen was in the restroom.
"Just look again to be sure they're missing," she said. "Are you absolutely positive you've not over looked them? Just once more, check to see if they're there."
The bag was there, of course, but half empty. Ellen was enraged. "What does she think? That I'm an asshole? Does it say Ellen Korpleplum, World's Largest Asshole on my sweater? Does it? What does it say on my sweater? Does it say I'm an asshole? I'll just believe anything you say because that's what assholes do and I'm Ellen Korpleplum the fucking asshole fairy. I wave my asshole wand around accepting any old lie you tell me! I'm such an asshole it's a miracle, ok? A fucking asshole miracle!"
Later that day Judge Killmenow appeared in front of Ellen's desk and flung three one dollar bills at her. Ellen collected the money, put it in her purse, replaced her purse in the desk drawer and then asked "what's the money for?"
Judge Killmenow narrowed her eyes to slits and stamped out of the room.
This incident did not slow Judge Killmenow's consumption of Ellen's pretzels. In fact, for reasons that were not yet clear, it intensified it.
A few weeks later, Ellen left early for a dentist appointment. Judge Killmenow sauntered into the chambers and over to the pretzel tin, which happened to be empty. She knew the Princess and I were at our desks around the corner, well within earshot though we could not see her. She sighed forlornly and with great effort. "The pretzel tin. It's empty. Again." There was another sigh that sounded as if it came from her toes. She rattled the pretzel tin a little and paced back and forth. Then we heard her open the file cabinet drawer where she'd found the pretzels before. Then there was silence.
You see, after the incident, Ellen had hidden the pretzels in Judge Selma's coat closet. She didn't tell anyone where they were, but because of our vantage the Princess and I could clearly see where they lived. Judge Killmenow was facing an empty drawer.
She muttered under her breath and then slammed the drawer. There was a moment of silence where I presume she composed herself. When she stuck her head around the corner to address the Princess and me she was wearing a saccharin smile and spoke in the cooing tones of one who wishes to manipulate. "Do you know where Ellen keeps the pretzels?" she asked. "There don't seem to be any in their usual drawer. Do you know? Where?"
I wanted to say something like Ellen handles all pretzel related matters, there are pretzels in the vending machine for emergency situations, Ellen keeps us in the dark with regard to the pretzels, whatever. Something evasive.
But the Princess, who has always been a little cowed by the title the judges carry buckled immediately. "Oh, Judge Killmenow, the pretzels are in that closet right there in Judge Selma's office. Right there. See? There? Yeah. No, under the blanket. Right. Yes, inside the chest. Sure, the combination is three left, fourteen right, twenty-two left. Got 'em?"
When Judge Killmenow finally freed the pretzels she hugged the bag to her chest and danced out of our chambers, spinning like a top and kicking her heels up with gleeful abandon.
The next morning when Ellen found out she was again enraged. She took her bag and hid it again, this time out of sight of the clerks. It has remained hidden since.
Last night the Princess and I received another after hours visit from Judge Killmenow.
The Princess and I rolled our eyes at each other as we listened to her scrounging ritual. The sighing, the shaking of the tin, the pacing and the opening of drawers. "We seem to be out of pretzels," said Judge Killmenow as she strolled into our office. "I'll just refill it, ok?"
She went to the closet and consulted her palm pilot for the combination to the chest. When she finally got the chest opened she dug around a little until she could be entirely certain that there were no pretzels there. "Where are they?" she asked casually.
"Aren't they there?" I asked.
"No, there are no pretzels here. Where did they go?"
"Maybe somebody ate 'em up," I said innocently.
Judge Killmenow put on a stern face. "Like who?"
"I don't know. Somebody who likes pretzels."
There was a long silence. I went back to work, Judge Killmenow didn't move.
After several long seconds of silence, once again the Princess caved. "Oh, Brian. I think there are like some around here somewhere or something. Let me just, you know, like see if I can find them, ok?"
So the Princess wandered around in Judge Selma's office and after a good bit of rooting, she produced them. Judge Killmenow snatched the bag and angrily strode off to munch.
This morning, seconds after Ellen came in Judge Killmenow was on top of her, bag of pretzels in her hand. "Ellen, I need a word with you."
"Ok."
"How dare you hide these from me?"
Ellen was trying to take it all in. "What are you doing with my pretzels?"
"Your pretzels? Your pretzels? These are my pretzels! I paid for them! They're mine!"
"What are you talking about?"
"I gave you three dollars, Ellen. Three! Don't pretend you don't remember."
Suddenly it all clicked. "Are you talking about that lousy three dollars you threw at me months ago?"
"I paid for these pretzels!" Judge Killmenow was adamant.
Ellen grew very quiet. "Fine," she said. "Take them then. Take them away."
"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Ellen. What am I going to do with all these pretzels?"
The weight of the will power required to prevent Ellen from answering that question caused her to go unconscious. When she came to, the pretzels were gone and there was another three dollars on her desk.
Posted at 2:47 p.m.
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